


Urban Legend

by DavinaCFox



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Horror, Bisexual Oswald Cobblepot, Dark, F/M, Ghosts, Making Love, Mirrors, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Sexual Tension, Summoning, Urban Legends, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, sensual Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavinaCFox/pseuds/DavinaCFox
Summary: The city of Gotham is full of eerie tales of long ago, a place steeped in history, and some of it dark. But no tale is darker than that of Oswald Cobblepot, known as The Penguin, rumoured to have been horribly murdered thirty years before. Now the Van Dahl mansion stands empty gathering dust. But Oswald's memory lives on in the murals on the walls in the Narrows, and in the minds of the superstitious, as the urban legend persists that if a midnight ritual is performed at the mansion before his full length mirror and a gift is left for the former underworld king, The Penguin will appear and grant a wish – in return for a favour of his choosing...For Zara Fox, the mansion is an opportunity to write a book on its bloody history – but as she learns more about The Penguin, she begins to wonder if maybe there is any truth in the myth, and is drawn deeper into his story. Then she decides to try the ritual, asking The Penguin to heal her boyfriend Alex, who walks with a leg brace after an accident.But Zara will soon find out some urban myths are very real, as real as the warning given by Jim Gordon, who tells her that if she looks into the darkness too long, it might just look back and catch her staring...
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Oswald Cobblepot/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> Here is a very different fic from me that goes horror AU on the dark side of Gotham and The Penguin. Dark, scary and sexy with a few echoes of Candyman. And maybe a little bit of 80s horror movie vibes too!  
> Enjoy :-)  
> Love, Davina x

Chapter 1

The sun was shining and the water was flat and calm and the tall buildings in the distance looked bright reflecting sun rays as they drove across the bridge and headed into the city of Gotham. The window was open and the breeze was fresh and warm as Zara sat in the passenger seat with a pen in her hand as she pressed it to the note pad and started to write.

“Heading in to what looks like any other big city – but it has secrets. And we are going to explore the biggest secret of all...” she said with a red lipstick smile as her excited gaze was hid by her sunglasses as she wrote the name _Oswald Cobblepot_ and drew a circle around it, then she closed the pad and looked at her boyfriend of six months, who smiled as he glanced at her.

“Here we are, Gotham City!” Alex announced.

“Yay! This is like a vacation. This is not work! This is going to be _fun!_ ”

As they drove across the bridge and headed into the city, she looked at him and laughed, then as he glanced at her again, she took off her glasses as the breeze whipped up the ends of her light brown, shoulder length hair held back by a white polka dot hair band that matched her white blouse and her blue denim skirt, then she looked harder at him and laughed again.

“I'm going to say it...”

Alex smiled as he shook his head.

“Not again!” he exclaimed with a chuckle, “ _Please_ don't do that to me!”

“Yes!” she said playfully, “I'm going to say it... you look a bit like him, you really do!”

And blond, hazel eyed Alex glanced at her as they drove through the city streets as amusement shone in his gaze.

“Thanks a lot, Zara. That's a real compliment, comparing me to a guy who killed more people than we can count on his way to becoming king of the underworld. A man with blood on his hands. A so called _Gotham monster_ , of the human variety!”

She briefly glanced out the window, taking in the sight of tall buildings old and new crammed close together towering above them as they drove through the city, then she met his gaze again.

“I just mean, going by the pictures we saw, you _do_ look a little bit like Oswald Cobblepot!”

Alex was taking it well, he always did when she brought this up, the fact that he looked a little bit like the Penguin – a slight, passing resemblance, something that made her laugh every time she raised it...

“My nose is _not_ as beaky as his! He had a big, pointy nose, Zara!”

She playfully leaned in, staring at his nose.

”Yours is ... a little smaller? Just a _tiny_ bit?”

He took the car down a road that led away from the heart of the city.

“I'm nothing like him, I look _nothing_ like a penguin! That's where he got the nickname - his nose, Zara! And he had jet black hair and a dark, evil look in his eyes... and he's been dead for thirty years, are you saying I look like a dead guy too, is that another compliment?”

She started to giggle.

That look of amusement had not left his gaze.

“I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“The Oswald thing... “ Alex smirked, “I bet you wish you could fuck him, you wish he was balls deep in you!”

“No, that's _you in me_ later on, once we pick up the keys to the mansion!”

They were on the highway now, heading away from the main part of the city and up to a more secluded, once affluent area, where off a narrow road, they would find the route that led to the mansion.

As they drove on, Zara put away her note book. They took a climbing road with a view of the city below, and she took some shots on her camera. The last time she had used it had been just as they crossed the bridge, and the river had looked beautiful. Everything looked beautiful in daylight... She glanced at Alex, who she had met six months before, beneath his dark t shirt and his bleached jeans, his body was toned and perfect, if not for the scars and his busted up leg that still gave him pain. She hadn't cared about any of that, it had not put her off him on the day they had met, when she had been doing a book signing. He had limped up to her and asked her to sign his copy of her photographic study of urban decay, and they had started talking. He had told her he wore a leg brace because of an accident thanks to his former dangerous hobby - he had rolled his car on the race track.

Later that evening they had met up for drinks, and she had decided against a pizza before they parted for the night because she was tired and couldn't be bothered to call out for a delivery. She had been home for an hour and thinking about bed when the doorbell had rung, and there was Alex, with a pizza and a smile on his face as he said, _Are you going to invite me in, I'm hoping the pizza is a huge incentive..._ He had stayed the night. They had barely been apart since.

She had known from the first time their eyes met that he was the one, that this was love at first sight. The sex was fantastic, and the feelings were deep and mutual. Alex was unlike anyone she had ever met before. He came from a wealthy family, and he was happy to invest in her projects. He said her passions were his too, and he wanted to do everything he could to support her dreams. And he had persuaded the historical trust that looked after the mansion to give him the keys. They were renting the place, and had plenty of time to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy their stay in the city and explore it at their leisure. The only thing that might hold them back was the fact that Alex had a damaged leg. He walked with a leg brace and relied on painkillers, and she had taken over on the drive twice to give him a rest because his leg was painful. But he never let the pain get him down, and that was something else she loved about him. He still loved life even though it had dealt him a cruel blow...

Now the breeze was still warm but the world around them seemed quieter as they headed up a lonely road, following an old paper map because the Van Dahl mansion was not on any modern digital device. Alex had turned off the sat nav after they crossed the bridge, and now they were following a route that even google didn't know. Gotham was a city full of mystery, so much of the past was shrouded in stories dark and bloody, and as they took a turn up a tree lined lane and the gates of the mansion loomed closer, Zara took a first look at the tall and imposing building and felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine:

It looked like all that embraced the faded grandeur of many decades long past, with its gables and its high narrow windows and its grand entrance with pillars at the porch. The driveway was clear and the gardens tended. The trust kept the place in good order and the fee to stay here had been substantial but according to Alex, no big deal - at least, not for him.

For Zara, her fascination with the story of The Penguin had started when she had looked up cities with dark histories – and none was darker than Gotham, with its tales of human experiments by scientist named Hugo Strange, and violent gangland wars fought all over the city, culminating in the fall of the Gotham. Now the city was restored and had been for many years, but it had so many tales of dark times. And the story of the former king of the underworld was compelling. It was easily enough to write a book about, and would be a perfect follow up to the success of her previous book, a study of urban decay. Nowhere on earth had such a history or such a mix of architecture, with every mural or bullet hole or old and new building that stood tall having a story to tell...

 _And this mansion had plenty of stories._ She felt it in her blood as she got out of the car. Alex had already got out, opening up the drivers side and climbing stiffly out as he shifted his weight and gave a hiss of pain that made her want to hug him. But he hated sympathy, and he was smiling as she joined him.

“It's all ours for the summer,” he said, and then he reached into his pocket, “Surprise!”

It certainly was a surprise as he tossed her the keys and she caught them.

“I thought we had to wait here for the keys. How -”  
“I paid a lot of cash up front for this experience, of course they gave me the keys in advance! I had them send a set over to the hotel we stayed in last night, they were waiting for me at the desk when we checked in. I wanted to surprise you.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly.

“It was a surprise, thank you!”

Love reflected in his gaze.

“I do what I can to make you happy.”

“And it's more than enough,” she said fondly, then she reached for him and for a moment, they embraced in the sunshine by the entrance to the mansion. As she held him, she felt a rush of love as she recalled how nothing had put him off her – even the day she had told him about the endometriosis – the painful periods and the infertility – and he had showed nothing but kindness and acceptance, saying they would handle it together. He even ran his hand over her belly when she was cramping and laid up with the discomfort every month. He had even masturbated her in the shower, giving her a hard orgasm that had helped to ease the cramps and the heavy flow as her insides had contracted, and he hadn't cared about the blood that ran down her thighs as she clung to him and the water washed it away. He accepted everything, just as she accepted his scars and his pain. When they were together, it was all good. They didn't talk about the things they couldn't do, only what was possible. And grabbing the chance to stay at the mansion and take pictures and explore and soak up the atmosphere was something that was not out of reach. They couldn't have a family, but life still held the promise of adventure, and this place was one of them...

The key turned in the lock and the front door opened up soundlessly on oiled hinges. They entered a hallway with a black and white tiled floor, the walls were covered with oak panels ornately carved. As she closed the door behind them, the place smelled of age and polish. Fine paintings hung along the hallway, a grandfather clock chimed the hour and she looked up to see chandelier hanging above on the high ceiling.

“Oswald certainly knew how to live...” she said, turning around as she took a look down the hallway towards flight of stairs leading up to the next level.

“I'll get the bags from the car later,” Alex paused to stretch his back, then he shifted his weight and rubbed at his leg.

“I need to sit down, Zara. Sorry.”

“How many times have I told you, don't apologise!” she exclaimed, and the low heels of her shoes sounded with an echo as she walked towards an open doorway and he limped stiffly beside her. They entered a living room, it was decorated as if this place had been filled with grand furniture back in the past century, or perhaps a little before that – the place was full of fine antiques, and the furnishings were dark and of the same rich fabric that matched the velvet drapes at the windows.

“It's like a time capsule!” she said as she looked about the room, and then Alex limped over to a chaise beside the darkened fireplace, sat down and reclined with a sigh, then he paused to raise his painful leg before resting back against its padded fabric.

“I bet Oswald used to sit here by the fire on a cold evening with a glass of brandy in his hand as he plotted his next move.”

She had a smile on her face as she kicked off her shoes and knelt down on the rug, leaning against the edge of the chaise as she smiled up at him.

“I just had a wicked thought...”

Amusement danced in his gaze.

“You want to suck his cock as he reclines here by the fireplace?”

She laughed off his remark as she shook her head. Although the thought was tempting... She had seen old pictures of Oswald dressed in fine clothing, looking like a gentleman from an age long gone, way before his own time a mere thirty years before, and there was no denying she was drawn to him in her fantasies – but she was very much in love with Alex, and he didn't need to know about her Penguin fantasies...

“Stop it, Alex, I was thinking about you, actually.”

That wasn't a lie. As she had seen him resting there, she had wanted to pull up his t shirt and kiss down his belly as she freed his cock, then slipped it into her mouth. This place was old and had an aura of old world romance about it that lit up her desire instantly. There was also a painting on the wall in a gold frame of Oswald Cobblepot, looking proud and grand in a fine dark blue suit as he posed for a portrait in this very room... She caught sight of it as his ice blue eyes stared back coldly, and then she met the warm, living gaze of Alex and smiled. He ran his hand over her hair fondly.

“I was told all his stuff is still here. Shall I put on his suit and then maybe we can -”

“No!” she exclaimed, and then she laughed, but was already starting to warm to the idea.

“Though it _is_ tempting...”

“I knew it!” he chuckled as he rested on the chaise, “You DO want to fuck him! Maybe he can join us... you can have me and him, Zara.”

She shook her head, thinking about all she had read about the urban legend. It seemed the people of this city still believed Oswald could be contacted, even from beyond the grave...

“I will be writing a lot about that urban myth,” she assured him, “It's really grabbed me, that thing about summoning him. I wonder why people still believe in that? Maybe it was because his body was never found? I want to find out how he died.”

“Now that would be something new,” Alex agreed, “People say he was killed by an enemy, who may have been Fish Mooney – but she was killed in a gang war a few years later, so we can't ask her. Unless you want to get really creepy and use a Ouija board!”

She laughed as she shook her head.

“I think we can look into this without a Ouija!”

“What do you think, about the stories of the summoning?” he asked as he sat up, then cautiously stretched his damaged leg.

“I don't know,” she replied honestly, “It will make for some great writing material, but I want to find people who have tried it out, who have actually done it.”

“Done what?”Alex asked.

“The ritual,” she said, and she walked across the floor to a spot near the window, “You light a candle at midnight and look into his full length mirror and say, _Mr Penguin, you are the true king of Gotham_ , and then you leave him a gift and ask for what ever it is that you want, what you _really_ want – your hearts desire.”

She turned back to him as he rose stiffly from the chaise and pain briefly registered on his face.

“ _Fuck...”_ he whispered as he paused to rub at his knee, then he straightened up and walked stiffly over to join her.

“And what would you ask him for, his big throbbing cock?” as he said that he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as he smiled, “I hate to remind you at a time like this when you're getting all wet and warm and sticky for the Penguin... but Oswald Cobblepot was in a relationship with a _guy_ named Edward Nygma, a criminal also known as The Riddler. I really don't think he would want to give you all his many inches of cock, how ever many inches you fantasise about, you're not quite his type!”

She gave him a playful squeeze.

“I can dream. But I have you, Alex. You're all I'll ever need.”

“ _But you also need his mirror.”_

She drew back as a look of intrigue came to her face.

“The mirror used to stand in this room... I saw a picture. And we're standing right where it used to be.”

“And it got taken out of here because people kept breaking in and leaving gifts, using it as a shrine,” Alex reminded her, “But the trust put it back, just for us.”

Her eyes grew wide as he smiled, seeing the look on her face was priceless, he had waited until the moment was right to reveal this secret...

“Want to see it?”

“You know I do! I want to use it in the book, where is it, Alex?”

He took her hand.

“This way,” he said, and led her out of the room.

They crossed the hallway and entered a grand dining area where a long, polished table stood with many chairs, at the head of the table the main chair was grandly Gothic in appearance and fitting for a king.

_A king of the underworld._

_Mr Penguin, you are the true king of the underworld..._

That thought ran through her mind as she pictured his mirror, framed in silver, full length and the place where he would stand to check his appearance, that must have been so important to him, checking how he looked before he stepped out of the door to face the city each day. She had seen the mirror in old pictures on a website about the mansion, but the mirror had been removed by the trust long ago... and they had put it back, just for her?

“It's over here.”

She heard him speak, felt Alex let go of her hand, but she was still standing there, her gaze fixed on that large table and the empty chair at the head of it as she pictured Oswald raising a glass to his success, a young man who had taken the city by force, claiming his right to rule leaving a trail of bloodshed in his wake...

She blinked, could almost feel the glow of the fireplace as flames burnt amber... She could picture him sitting there in a dark suit with a velvet jacket that was long and framed with black feathers. He was as elegant as he was handsome, pale with dark hair framing his face in long spikes and those eyes, oh, those eyes, so cold and yet so magnetic, cutting through her like lasers as he looked at her...

_He looked at her?_

Oswald drank from the glass as he sat in the dimly lit room in the glow of candle light as the firelight flickered. He was still looking at her.

“ _Zara?”_

She gave a gasp, turning sharply to see Alex standing behind her.

“What are you doing, staring at an empty chair?” he said in confusion.

She shook her head, writing the moment off at once.

”Too much imagination,” she replied, and then as he looked over to the corner of the room she did too, and there it was:

_Oswald's mirror._

She walked over to it as Alex stayed by the table, leaning against it with his hand pressed to its polished surface as he took the weight off his painful leg.

“Happy?”

She smiled back at him through the glass reflected.

“Very!” she said as she looked again at its unblemished surface. It had recently been polished, and despite the years of turmoil and violence it had witnessed, the glass was in perfect condition.

“So this is the summoning mirror...”

She placed her fingertips against its cool surface, looking into it as her own reflection looked back at her and she searched the mirror that reflected her and the room and Alex standing by the table as if she expected something to happen, she had read enough about the superstitions in this city to know this mirror was considered almost magical by some...

Then she turned away and looked over at Alex.

“Can we move it back to its original place?”

“I was told not to move anything, but I'm sure we can get away with it as long as the trust doesn't find out.”

They shared a smile, wordlessly making plans. Of course they would do what they liked while they were here, that was the whole point of exploring every aspect of the place and logging everything for the book...

“I'm going to get the bags from the car,”Alex said, “Then we can check out the rest of the place.”

“I can get them, you still need to take it easy.”

“No, I'm fine, I'll cope,” Alex replied, and then he limped out of the room and headed back down the hallway.

Suddenly she was alone in the Cobblepot house. And the place seemed to have a heavy air of old history, so much of it that longed to seep from the walls and wrap itself around her. She looked back at the mirror, then walked over to it, watching as its flawless surface reflect the grand room as she leaned in, thinking about the legend.

“ _Mr Penguin...”_ she whispered, feeling the thrill of playing around with the legend, _“You are the true king of Gotham...”_

And she smiled as behind her, the table was empty and the room reflected as before.

_Maybe it was just a game, just another ghost story..._

_Of course it was._

Or perhaps everything just seemed so safe in the daylight with the sunlight falling in through the window lighting on a faded spot where the rug looked sun bleached. She turned away from the mirror, shaking her head. An old place like this was _almost_ enough to make her believe an urban myth might be true... Then she heard a car door close heavily and two voices quickly became raised.

“ _Who the fuck are you?”_ she heard Alex demand angrily.

“Oh shit!” she muttered, and hurried out of the room.

Zara opened up the front door to see the cases unloaded from the car, they had been left on the driveway as Alex stood beside a second vehicle, confronting an older man with light brown hair shot through with grey, whose moustache was equally grey, he wore a dark suit and was regarding Alex coldly.

“This is private land. I'm James Gordon of the GCPD, soon to be commissioner, who the hell are you and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“We have permission to be here,” Zara said as she left the house and walked out to join them.

“That's what a lot of people have said, but we don't just get break ins on Halloween,” Jim replied, “This house often attracts the wrong kind of attention.”

“And I look like the wrong kind of attention? You're saying I look like trouble?” Alex demanded.

“Maybe,” Jim replied.

Zara gave a weary sigh. Alex had always been the wild one in his family, always the rebel – and that, as he had explained when they met, was why he had fallen out with his family years back... He had never been fond of following rules. Clearly, he didn't like cops, either.

“I just need your name.”

Alex leaned against Jim's car. Jim looked at his hand on the body work, then back at his face as Alex smirked.

”Take your hand _off_ my vehicle.”

“I'm supporting myself, I have a disability,”Alex replied, indicating to his leg brace, “You can't arrest me for that!”

“No, but I can arrest you for refusing to give your name!”

Alex glared at him.

“Alexander Brandon Royce the third, _sir_.”

The name had rung a bell with Jim.

“Your father owns the Royce shipping company?”

“Yes, and we trade worldwide, including here in Gotham, you've probably seen some of his vessels at the docks.”

Alex pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Jim, who opened it up seeing the letter from the trust confirming Alex and his partner had been given permission to stay there for the purpose of research for a book. He folded the paper, handed it back to Alex and then glanced at Zara.

“I can't stop you from doing this,” he said, “But this city doesn't really need any more attention for its past history, especially not superstitious rumours about the late Oswald Cobblepot, Ms Fox.”

“It's not just about the Penguin,” she replied, “It's a study of the architecture and history of old Gotham. Maybe you could help with that. You must have seen a lot here over the years?”

Jim forced a brief smile.

“No thanks,” he replied, “I think the past is best left alone. And so are the dead. Leave them in peace, that's what I say.”

“Did you know Oswald?”

Her question gave him pause for thought, but then he shook his head.

“I only knew him as a cop, recognising a criminal, Ms Fox. And I won't be a part of any kind of project to open up the city history for the attention of the wider world.”

“I could give you my card?”

“No, thank you,” he glanced from her to Alex, “But I'll be stopping by again, just to be sure you're keeping this place secure. It would be irresponsible of me not to do that, the trust has protected this place for decades and it's of great historical value. We have to guard against the risk of theft, too - there's a lot of art and antiques in there.”

“And we know how to lock up safely,” Alex replied, “You really don't need to stop by again.”

“But I will, just to be sure about that,” Jim told him, “Thanks for your time. I'll see you again.”

Then he got into his car and drove away. As the car turned out of the driveway and hit the road, Alex jabbed a middle finger towards the gates.

“Fuckin' cop, accusing me of what, breaking in? Do I look like an art thief to you?”

She laughed as she shook her head.

“No... well, _maybe_... He might have seen a similarity between you and Oswald, maybe you reminded him of the Penguin!”

He laughed too.

“Stop it! I look nothing like him!”

She went around to the back of the car and lifted up the bags.

“I can do that -”

“No, Alex, I'm thinking about your leg! I'll take the bags in.”

Before he could say another word, Zara had hauled the bags up the porch and through the front door.

“I could have done that for you,” he muttered, then as he headed towards the entrance, he paused to draw a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain that steps always inflicted, then he limped up the steps and went back inside and closed the front door of the mansion.

They explored the rest of the house. A large guest room had been made ready with fresh sheets on the bed, and while Alex rested properly at last, Zara wandered the house, taking pictures of the rooms and the fine details of the more personal items, like the portrait of Oswald and the chair where he used to sit for gang leaders meetings, and then she went through to a kitchen that was large and partly modernised and as she looked at the oven, she got a chill:

Was this the same oven where he cooked the grown up children of his murderous step mother? It was said Oswald had served them up as dinner before killing and decapitating her as revenge for the murder of his father...

_But that had never been proved._

_Maybe that was part of the urban legend too._

_So much horror surrounded the stories about The Penguin, it was hard to know what was fact and what was fictional..._

But all the same, she wouldn't use the oven. Maybe the hob, and certainly the microwave would be okay, but not _that_ oven, just in case...

She opened up the cupboards, then the fridge, finding the place had been recently stocked up. It was then she found the note, folded neatly beside the kettle. She opened it up and read it:

_The kitchen has been stocked up and the fee charged to the account of Mr Royce. You will find everything in good order, I must remind you to keep it that way, and I will be stopping by to ensure the rules are respected. Again, I shall remind you : The master bedroom is locked. Oswald's private room containing his personal effects can be opened with my permission, when I am present, and what you wish to photograph must be put to me first before a decision is made. Do not move or damage furniture. No one else is permitted to stay at the house while you both enjoy your visit. And please keep the place clean to a high standard. I know where all the stains are! I do not expect to find new ones!_

And then she started to smile as she saw _who_ had signed it.

“ _He's in charge of the trust?”_ She said in surprise, and then she hurried upstairs to share the news with Alex. This was going to be a huge surprise...and maybe, it would also be a big lead for the book content, too.

“ _Guess who is in charge of this estate?”_

Alex sat up on the bed, blinking away sleep and then pausing to cautiously stretch his aching leg.

“I don't know, I dealt with the historical society, I spoke to several people before we got permission to stay here for the book.”

“Edward Nygma!” she exclaimed, going over to the bed to join him as she showed him the signature at the bottom of the note.

“THE Edward Nygma?” Alex said in surprise, “I never knew that!”

“And he left his phone number,” she reminded him, “It's on the note, I think we should call him and get him over here tomorrow. Think what this could mean for the book!”

Alex shrugged.

“You could call him and see if he's interested. He probably won't be, these days he's clearly not a criminal any more, or he wouldn't be running the trust with the historical society.”

“He doesn't have to tell me anything about his criminal activities, I just want to know about the Penguin,” she replied.

“So call him,” Alex agreed, “You never know, it could be worth a shot.”

“I'm calling him now!” she said.

She made the call. It was not answered, and went to voicemail.

“Mr Nygma,” said Zara, “This is Zara Fox, I'm over at the mansion with Alex Royce and I've already started on the book project. I was wondering... I hope you don't mind me asking, could you come over tomorrow, if that's convenient, and maybe talk about Oswald? I'd like to get as much information as I can. If you don't want to I understand, it's about the past, but this would really be a great way to tell his story. Please get back to me when you can. Thanks.”

She ended the call and put her phone down on the table.

Alex got up stiffly from the bed as she glanced at the phone impatiently, then looked away.

“He won't get back to us yet,” Alex told her, “Maybe he won't reply at all.”

“But its worth a shot, like you said.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, “We just have to wait for him to call.”

Then he pulled her close and kissed her softly as the promise of more to come later shone in his gaze.

“Let's go for a drive. I've got some of the murals marked off on the map.”

Seeing more of the city after they had just arrived had not been a part of her plan, but when Alex said he wanted to go for a drive, it meant his leg was less painful and he could do what he enjoyed the most – driving once more. They left the house and took the car into the city, pausing several times for Zara to take shots of the architecture, the outside of City Hall, and then the GCPD building, before parking at a quiet spot and taking a few shots of the river side, then they wandered back down towards the street, bought hot dogs and returned to the river to eat while they watched the water flowing. Then Alex put his arm around her and took a picture of them both, framed by the river as he smiled for the camera and she surprised him with a kiss.

“I'm not a photographer like you,” he said as he looked at the picture, “But I like this one of us,” and then he made it his phone wallpaper, and they paused for a moment to look about the river front as her gaze settled on the docks a short distance away.

“That old pier... could that be the one where Ed allegedly shot Oswald?”

“It could be,” he replied, “Best not ask him about that if he gets back to us!”

“You're right, nothing was ever proven. It could just be another myth,” she replied, and then they turned back together and started walking towards the car. And it was then she saw it, beneath an old archway that led to a cobbled street :

There was a mural, a painting on the wall that was partly faded by time and weather, but beneath the bridge, it had largely been preserved – an image of Oswald Cobblepot, it was the upper half of him, looking out from beneath the shade of an open umbrella, his hair was spiky and raven black, his skin pale and his eyes a mix of sea green with shades of blue. Beside him in the distance someone had painted icebergs and a snowy landscape where penguins waddled.

They were under the bridge now, side by side as she raised her camera and Oswald's face turned ghost white as the flash went off. She took several shots, then she lowered the camera, looking intently at his image. Beneath it had been written, _Penguin Lives._

“How did he die?” she said, glancing at Alex, who had read everything she had read and tried to research all he could before joining her on this trip.

“It doesn't say exactly, not anywhere,” he replied, “Killed by a rival, an enemy... and his body was never found.”

There was a flicker of sadness in her eyes as she recalled the facts they did know.

“He fought and killed his way through the worst of the criminals of the time to become king of Gotham, and then someone murdered him... This was after his mother Gertrud Kapelput had been slaughtered, kidnapped and then stabbed when he tried to save her. She died in his arms. And the GCPD did nothing about it.”

“And they say Ed shot him over some kind of personal dispute – if those two were close, that ended six months before he died. Do you think Ed killed him?”

She shook her head.

“If it was Ed, I think he would have been caught by now. He was a high profile criminal, someone would have talked... and Ed was nowhere near Oswald on the night he died, he was in the Narrows hosting a game show for the locals.”

“We're right on top of the Narrows, I saw it on the map,” Alex told her, “But let's not go there, not today. It's a rough place.”

“I know that, but I'm not scared of a bad neighbourhood. I only want to take some pictures... and I need a few more of this one...”

As she spoke she stepped back, raised her camera and then took another shot of the Penguin mural.

“I'll wait in the car,” Alex told her, then as his leg began to feel stiff, he limped away from the shadow of the archway, heading back towards the car.

She took two more shots, then looked about the dim area and noticed a narrow entrance to an alley way. She glanced back, but saw Alex had just reached the car, and had paused to rub at his stiff leg, his back was turned and she didn't want to worry him, this would only take a couple of minutes...

_If there was a painting here, maybe there were more_. That was her reasoning as she began to make her way through the entrance and down a passageway. It led out to a narrow cobbled street, the place looked deserted and by the bad shape of the crumbling buildings nearby, she guessed this was one of those areas damaged in the Gotham war that were yet to be renovated. Place like this were dotted abut the city, but mostly, it was the poorer neighbourhoods that were still waiting, after many years, to be repaired. She crossed the street and came to a doorway. The door was long gone, and as she entered the building, she saw this had once been a factory, or maybe a storage area... the room was empty save for some litter. Then she turned her head, giving a gasp:

_There was another one._

This mural was vivid and full length, showing Oswald Cobblepot standing in a fine suit, leaning on a cane as sunlight spilled in through a broken window, shining right on to his eyes of arctic blue. There was something mesmerising about it, something powerful... she looked down at the floor, the place was old and dirty but now she realised what was on the other side of the room was not trash simply shoved up against a wall:

There were burned out candles in jars, unopened bottles of cognac and strangely, a collection of fine looking umbrellas placed below the mural.

_Gifts for the Penguin?_

_People actually made shrines to this guy?_

She was still staring at the sight as she took a picture, the flash went off, capturing the shrine with its gifts, then she stepped back towards the doorway and focused on the painting and took two more shots of Oswald. _As the last shot snapped, the flash seemed brighter as the Penguin blinked._

She caught her breath, almost dropping the camera as she stared at the mural, but now his painted face just looked blankly forward as he leaned on his cane, his painted image on the brickwork was now just a mural once more.

She was still shaking as she turned around to leave, but then saw another brick wall behind her. She looked left and right, breaking into a sweat as her heart raced:

_Four brick walls._

_No way out._

_The doorway was gone..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Zara turned again, her head dizzy with panic. There was a way in, it was also the way out, it couldn't just disappear...

_But it had._

She yelled for Alex as she pounded in vain on the brick work.

_She was trapped. Four brick walls, yet the light still spilled in from the broken window, on to the eyes of the Penguin, eyes that suddenly seemed alive..._

She turned in panic, slamming her hands against the brickwork. Then he reached out, grabbing her as she gave gasp. It was just Alex. He had just stepped thorough the empty doorway right beside her – of course it was still beside her, but how the hell had she missed it?

“Are you okay? I was in the car and I looked back, I saw you'd gone... so I came back and heard you yelling for me!”

He looked startled as he stood there with his hands on her shoulders, feeling her shake as her face paled and she looked at him with wide eyes.

“I got confused... couldn't find the way out!” as she said that, she managed to laugh as her unease slipped away, “That's what I get... you told me not to wander off!”

“I said, this is a dangerous area. Let's go, Zara. We can plan a trip to the Narrows another day – we're here for the summer, there's plenty of time to find the murals on the map.”

They had crossed the small street now and gone up the alley, once again they were beneath the bridge near the river as the mural of Oswald eyed them with interest as his eyes reflected a shade of the sunlit river as he stood beneath his umbrella.

“This one and the other one I found just now are not on the map?” she looked at Alex in surprise.

Now they had left the shadow of the bridge and were in daylight once more, heading back towards the car.

“No,” Alex told her, “I looked up a list of Penguin street art that's dotted about the city. There's no mention of the two we found today!”

As they got back into the car, she put on her seat belt then paused to check the shots she had taken, and as she glanced at Alex, she smiled.

“Every one of those murals are a piece of Gotham history. And we just found two that are not listed?”

“Maybe we'll find more,” he replied, “But it could be that new ones show up from time to time.”

“Did you see the gifts?”

He started up the car, pulled out of the parking space and turned the car back on to the road.

“All I noticed was my very scared girlfriend who panicked and forgot the way out of a damp and smelly abandoned building, what did I miss?”

“You missed a shrine,” she replied as they rejoined the main road and began to drive through the city, “Beneath the mural – booze, unopened, some rather expensive bottles, too. And umbrellas, new, good quality umbrellas, resting against the wall. Offerings for the Penguin. I saw candles in jars, too. I'm starting to get a theory about this urban legend.”

As the traffic moved freely, they drove on towards the turn that would take them to the highway, on the route back to the mansion.

“I would love to hear your theory,” Alex replied.

She paused for thought, taking in the sight of the curious landscape of old and new buildings, and then the view was gone as they reached the highway, where the flow of traffic was faster and they picked up speed.

“I'm starting to think maybe I could devote a whole chapter to this theory of mine,” she told him, “There are so many possibilities here – people who live in this city have heard so many stories, the older ones will remember The Penguin but the younger ones have grown up with superstition and rumours and ghost stories... I'm thinking about how this stuff begins, the legend says leave the Penguin a gift and tell him what you want. But history tells us the fact that Oswald was known to operate on the belief that everyone wanted something, and once you knew what it was, that was where the power and control could be found, by knowing a persons deepest desire – ultimately, it could be their weakness...”

She glanced at Alex.

“So... what does this have to do with the urban legend, Zara? There's two stories here – the real one, and the myth.”

“You need a connection that's more specific?” she asked.

He laughed as they headed towards the road that led to the mansion.

“It would help. I'm not too good at this investigative research!”

“In the days when Oswald ran the underworld, they say the city was under control – mostly. Gang wars blew up because it was troubled times, but on the scale of things, The Penguin was an excellent leader who knew how to run Gotham. He was also the son of a single parent family, his mother was a Hungarian immigrant and his father wasn't around, they lived in hardship before before he became the king of Gotham.. He was known as a builder, too – not a destroyer. He cared about the economy, he wanted business to stay good. He was a shining light for people of this city, especially the poorer families. I think that's why the myth began – he's a symbol of hope that came out of desperate times.”

Alex nodded.

“I get that. Yes, that makes a lot of sense.”

“And over the years, the myth grew and people still believed in him.”

“And those who can't get to the mansion make their own shrines to him?” he guessed.

“Right,” she agreed.

They drove on down the peaceful, tree lined road, the city was far behind them now, and they were turning down the route that led back to the mansion on the hillside, once the home of Oswald Cobblepot and still as grand and darkly romantic as it had been in the days when he had lived.

“I do have another theory,” she added.

They reached the driveway, went through and the gates closed behind them, then Alex stopped the car and switched off the engine.

“You have another one?”

“But this one is a little more... _out there_ ,” she admitted as the warm air slipped in through the open window carrying the scent of roses from the garden, “I'm thinking about the theory surrounding thought forms. Maybe if enough people collectively believed in him over the years their energy created some kind of image of Oswald, almost like a ghost.”

He chuckled as he shook his head.

”I don't buy into that. You're right, that is _way_ out there!” then he opened up the door and got out of the car, cursing as he put his weight on his damaged leg once more.

“And the other alternative is what, that his ghost is real?”

She closed the car door and joined him, then they walked back towards the house together.

“Maybe,” she replied, “He could be a real ghost – I'm not sure if I believe spirits and hauntings, but I've never seen proof either way to say they do or don't exist, so I'm keeping an open mind on that one.”

As she paused to unlock the front door, he glanced at her.

“I don't believe in ghosts,” Alex told her, “At least, not in the day time! I think I might be more open to the idea late at night, in the dark, especially in this place!”

“This house could make me believe in anything,” she replied as they went inside and she closed the door behind them, “It's an incredible place.”

As she said that, she looked around again.

“This might sound odd, but I feel at home here already.”

He smiled.

“I'm glad to hear it, Zara. It cost enough to rent for the summer! But at least its ours for three months.”

And then they both stopped, turning in stunned silence to see they were not alone: He stood there in the hallway next to the staircase, tall in a green suit with traces of grey shot through his hair. He smiled as he looked to them, and then he spoke.

“I got your message. Thought I'd come over today. I'm Edward Nygma.”

“ _The Ridd -”_ Alex felt a quick elbow jab his arm, a silent reminder that his past crimes were best not mentioned, then Zara hurried off towards him as Alex said _Oops_ under his breath and hung back, as Zara began to speak to their visitor.

“Mr Nygma! It's _so_ good to meet you!”

“Please, call me Ed...” he paused, casting a glance around the hallway, silently recalling a thousand memories of days gone by, “It all looks in order in here. I hope you'll keep it that way!”

“Absolutely,” she replied, “It's so great to meet you! Please tell me you want to help with the book?”

He paused to push his glasses up a little, then he set his gaze on her.

“Ah. That is something we need to talk about for sure, Zara. But it all depends on whether you want to discuss the myth, or the truth...” he slowly turned his gaze past her shoulder to the young man who stood further away, wearing a leg brace and leaning against the open doorway that led to the front room.

“You must be Alex?”

“I am. Good to meet you.”

Alex limped over to him to shake his hand as Ed's gaze shifted again to his leg, and to that limp.

“Sorry,” he said as he met his gaze once more, “You remind me of Oswald... sort of. He had a limp like yours.”

He was still looking at Alex, and then Ed smiled and turned to Zara.

“The past. So many echoes of it seem to come to life in this old place... So, shall we sit down and talk about your plans for the book?”

As he said that his gaze shone with enthusiasm, and Zara smiled brightly.

“Let's do that!” she said.

Alex rolled his eyes as they walked off together towards the front room. This was going to be a _long_ afternoon. If Ed Nygma had any plans for the rest of the day, he would be cancelling because, knowing Zara, she would keep him talking until nightfall...

“I'll make some coffee,” Alex said, and then he turned away, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

While the coffee sat on the table with steam rising and the scent of it filling the air, Alex went back upstairs to rest because his leg was throbbing again, and also because he knew he wasn't needed, not when Zara was captivated by their guest, THE notorious Riddler...

For all his infamy from years gone by, Edward Nygma was pleasant company. They sat in the front room, she on the sofa, he on the arm chair, with the coffee table between them as she left a tape recorder running that he said he was fine with, and then they started to talk.

“I must confess I've read more about the myth than I have about the real facts,” she told him as she sat there, “I want to cover a lot about that – how Oswald lives on in the minds of the people. I have a theory he's a symbol of hope.”

“Time is the ultimate teller of these tales,” Ed replied, _“I can bring tears to your eyes, resurrect the dead, make you smile, and reverse time. I form in an instant but I last a lifetime. What am I?”_

“You're asking me a Riddle?”

Her enthusiasm made him smile.

“Yes, the former criminal Riddler is asking _you_ a Riddle, Zara!”

She paused for a brief moment.

“Memories!”

“Exactly,” Ed replied, pausing to sip his coffee and set it down again as the gold wedding band on his finger caught the light, “But my days of criminal activity are long past. I left all that behind after the Gotham conflicts, it was my opportunity to turn my life around, I put the past behind me, I'm a married man now.”

“Any family?” she asked, getting comfortable on the sofa as she looked across the table at Ed.

“Step children,” he replied warmly, “And these days my time is mostly spent with my family, when I'm not looking after this place for the trust.”

“I want you to know I won't be asking questions about illegal activities from way back, I just want to know about Oswald. The _real_ Oswald. I've met James Gordon, he said he needed be sure we had permission to stay here – and he didn't seem very keen on the idea of a book.”

“Jim cares about the city and lives very much in the present,” Ed replied, “He detests anything that digs up the past or has focus on the urban myth. He's hoping some day this city can throw off its dark past and move forward. But I don't think that will ever happen.”

“What do you think about the myth?” she asked.

“Oswald's mirror?” Ed chuckled, “It's just a story, Zara. Oswald was not a vain person. He was very aware of his damaged leg and his limp and he always dressed well to compensate for that, for his image as king of the underworld... His mirror was just a practical way of checking his appearance. There's nothing mystical about it. But I'm sure as a writer with purely historical interests you understand there's no truth in the myth, right?”

His remark had come as something of a surprise.

“You don't believe in it at all, you don't think there could be _something_ in it?”

Ed smiled as he shook his head.

“Why would I? Just because I was close to him, it doesn't mean I've swallowed a bullshit tale in the hope that he lingers on. Why would I want him to haunt a mirror? It's just a story that grew around his disappearance. You do know he disappeared from the city several times after clashes with underworld enemies?”

She blinked.

“No.”

“Oswald Cobblepot was run out of town by more than one enemy on more than one occasion. And he did _not_ die at the hands of any of them! You just have to look at the real facts to separate the truth from the fiction.”

Now she felt a little awkward as she made a confession.

“I've focused on the architecture of the city and its basic history but I've not gone in depth yet. I've paid more attention to the stories around the myth because I want to do a significant write up on it, as it's the most fascinating aspect of city history, and it says a lot about people looking to the past for hope. That's why legends build up, it's a complicated process, it's about social issues, like the Narrows, for example – a poor area, yet there are murals of Oswald all over the ruins and some even have the words _Penguin Lives_ written on them. That's a powerful belief that's been passed down from one generation to another, Ed.”

He looked at her for a moment, lost in his own thoughts and then he smiled fondly, “Oswald was a powerful man. He made a lot of changes to this city, he cared about Gotham. If people want to remember him, let them do it in their own way, that's what I say.”

Then something dawned on her. Ed had just said, Oswald had _not_ been killed by an underworld rival...

“I guess I've been reading too much myth on the web,” she replied, “How did Oswald really die?”

Ed fell silent. He reached for his coffee, then drew his hand back, giving silent thought to a question that made his gaze cloud with old sorrows.

“Let me clear up a few things for you, Zara : Oswald wasn't killed by Fish Mooney. She once beat him severely because he turned her over to the cops. She shattered his leg. He used to walk with a cane and sometimes a leg brace – like your boyfriend does. And on the subject of your partner, Alex must be in a lot of pain, how did he do it?”

“Race track accident.”

“Ouch,” Ed remarked, and then he continued, “But back to what I was saying before- Fish did _not_ kill Oswald. A couple of years later, they reconciled, but it didn't last. This was after Oswald and I had fallen out, it was a bitter relationship dispute and if you're wondering, I will not say with that tape running that I _did_ shoot him, but he _was_ shot, and he _did_ fall into the Gotham river. Again, thankfully, he survived and Oswald and I eventually reunited. By now, Fish had been killed in a gangland dispute. When the Gotham fell, it was the catalyst that swept aside old resentments. We fought side by side to liberate the city....” he paused, that look of sorrow was back as old memories crowded dark in his mind and as he spoke again, his voice shook, “We were under heavy fire from Bane's people. Then a grenade came over the wall... Oswald shielded me from the blast... he fell back screaming, I knew it was bad...”

Zara looked on feeling stunned, this was a huge twist, a world away from the urban legend she had read about.

Ed was blinking away tears.

“I can stop the tape if you need a minute.”

He dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand.

“No, please don't do that, I can continue,” he drew in a deep breath, but emotion still shook his voice as he carried on speaking:

“Oswald held on, I got him to the hospital and I stayed at his side... he was in my arms when he passed away hours later...” Ed looked downward as a tear ran down his face, but he quickly brushed it away and forced a smile, “He was a hero! When you have time, look at the memorial that stands in the heart of the city, across the street from the GCPD building. There are a lot of names on that wall, honouring the fallen. Oswald's name is there, with every other hero who gave his life for this city.”

She nodded.

“I'll do that,” she replied, feeling surprised to learn the truth of the matter was very different to the legend.

“Oswald wasn't a hugely visible, notorious figure in the city in the days leading up to its fall,” Ed added, “Because he was a _successful_ crime lord. He kept good order. People would rather leave that part out and have him die in some other way, they wanted him to live on so the myth was born, using selective slices from his life, stitched together - no do doubt with good intent - but all the same, there were false rumours.”

Ed paused to take a deep breath to steady his emotions.

“Did Oswald have any family?” she asked.

Ed reached across the coffee table and stopped the recording. Then he took another deep breath, blinking away the last of tears brought to his eyes by old painful memories.

“No,” he replied, “His mother was killed in a gangland dispute, kidnapped by the Galavan family. Oswald tracked her down but he was too late, she was stabbed to death by Tabitha Galavan - and if you've heard he later plunged a knife into Tabitha's heart as revenge, that part is most certainly true.”

“Can I ask you something, off the record... Do you still miss Oswald?”

“Of course I do. The whole city misses him, that's why the myth came about, I guess,” he replied.

Then his phone rang and he answered it quickly.

“Yes, I'm over at the mansion now, I'm just talking to Ms Fox about her book – I think it will be a worthwhile project, a chance to get some facts out there.... No, no, I won't be much longer....” he paused, glanced at Zara and then looked away again, “I haven't had the chance yet, we've been talking about her book content but yes, I'll be sure to do that before I leave... Okay honey, love you too, see you soon.”

He ended the call.

“Your wife?” she guessed, knowing from what she had read about the past that Ed, despite his relationship with Oswald, had been known as something of a ladies man back in the day.

He smiled as his eyes shone and all trace of the sorrow dragged up by old memories melted away.

“Yes, my wife. Reminding me I have stuff to do at home...But there is one thing I need to check before I leave...”

He rose from his seat and Zara did the same. Ed led her out of the front room, down the hallway and into the dining room.

“I just needed to check on the mirror... _Oh no... Oh dear, we can't have that!_ ” His tone had changed to one of alarm as he went over to the mirror, looked into it, then over to the table as his gaze shifted from one empty chair to the next.

“ _Oh No, no no, no!”_ he muttered and then he shifted the mirror towards the wall, so it now reflected the open doorway, then turned back to Zara.

“I wasn't here when the mirror was returned.”

“And it belongs in the front room?” she guessed.

“I would prefer it not to be in there, because there's damage to the floor where it used to stand and I want to keep the place as original as I can,” he replied, “I'd hate to replace those old tiles. It's fine to have it in here – just _not_ reflecting the table.”

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she wondered why he had said that, recalling how she had pictured Oswald sat at the head of that table... The Mirror had been positioned to reflect every seat, but now Ed had shifted it to reflect the doorway, moving it over a short distance, and he seemed relieved... What had alarmed him so much about the mirror reflecting a table?

“Why did you move it?” she asked.

He smiled, but seemed tense.

“Maybe I'm a little superstitious,” he said with a shrug, then he indicated to the floor, “Also, placing it here does protect a sun bleached area of the rug. That's _much_ better!”

Then he walked out of the room as Zara looked from the mirror to the table, and she left the room, still wondering what was going on because Ed's reaction to the mirror had certainly been a little odd...

They met up in the hallway. Ed thanked her for the coffee.

“Please stop by again if you think of anything else I can use for the book,” she said.

“I'd be more than happy to oblige!” he said with a bright smile, and then he checked his watch.

“I need to get going before my wife calls again!”

She walked with him to the door and as she opened it, Ed stepped outside, but then turned back to her.

”By the way,” he said, laughing nervously, “I do hope you're not tempted to try that dumb ritual. We both know it's bullshit, right?”

She laughed too.

“Right!” she agreed, and then she thanked him for his time, and Edward Nygma left the house and got into his car and drove away.

As Zara closed the door, she felt even more fascinated by all she had learned - clearly, the facts separated sharply from the fiction, which made the rise of the urban legend even more enticing to explore at a closer level...

That evening, she and Alex had dinner in the dining room. Candles burned and the atmosphere was heady with the past and the romance of the old place. Oswald's chair at the head of the table was empty, Alex had looked at the seating, then pulled out a chair at the side of the table, close to where the kingly throne was placed, and she had sat opposite him.

“Why there?” she asked as she looked across the table at him in a haze of warmth set by the candlelight.

Alex shrugged.

“Why not? It didn't seem right to take Oswald's seat, but this chair feels just right, and we can look at each other across the table...” there was a playful look in his eyes now, “I don't give a single fuck how bad my leg hurts, I'm taking you upstairs and were having a night to remember, Zara!”

Then he reached for his glass and she saw he was drinking something amber over ice.

“Is that brandy?”

He put the glass down and smiled.

“It certainly is, a fine one, too – I swiped it from that shit hole where we found the shrine!”

Her jaw briefly dropped.

“That was an offering!”

“It was a good bottle going to waste!” he exclaimed, and then he drank the glass dry and poured another shot as the candlelight reflected the label on the bottle of fine brandy shimmering edged in gold.

“But that was left there for The Penguin!”

“And he's dead, Zara!”

“But all the same -”

“No, he's dead and if superstitious people want to spend money they probably can't afford on gifts, that's up to them. Do you think it will get them a better life? Of course not.”

She finished her meal and set her plate aside, pausing to sip mineral water she had found in the kitchen before looking back at her lover.

“We both know there's no truth in the myth. But you should have left that bottle alone, out of respect.”

“Zara, he wasn't murdered! You told me what Nygma said, he died in the Gotham City conflict! The more we dig into this story, the more we're finding out – this urban legend is bullshit, please don't devote half a book to it! Let's focus on the truth. I think more people will want to buy it if they know they're getting a real history lesson.”

She looked across the table at him, feeling a little hurt that he was criticising her choice of content.

“Alex, you said you were behind this all the way! You could be a little more supportive.”

“I just want it to sell.”

“So do I.”

Alex paused, she saw a flicker of worry in his gaze, and then he gave a heavy sigh.

“Truth is, I'm having a few cash flow problems regarding investments and I didn't want to tell you in case you couldn't forgive me. I can't turn to my family because they've written me off. I may not be your rich boyfriend for much longer!”

She stared at him. This was news to her...

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I thought I'd lose you.”

She slowly shook her head.

“Over money? You think I'm with you for money?”

“No!” he said quickly, “I know that's not the case. But I just didn't want you to think I'm a failure... It's not happened yet, but it could... soon. I'm sorry, Zara.”

She looked across the table, then reached across it, taking hold of his hand.

“Don't worry, we'll get through it together. If times get tough for you, I'll help you until you're back on your feet, just like you did for me, you've done so much to make this happen, us here in this mansion...It's going to be fine, Alex!”

For a moment he looked as if he was about to cry, then he got up from his seat, limped around to her side of the table and kissed her.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“All the time,” she said as she started to smile.

The candles were left to burn low after they put out the lights and went upstairs. Alex was in pain as they climbed the staircase, he had left off his pain pills so he could drink that night and now, he was paying for it. But it didn't stop him taking her in his arms when they reached the bedroom. She lay back on the bed naked, watching as he tried to block out the pain for a few more minutes, allowing enough time to stand over the bed and strip off his clothing, he sat down to take off his leg brace and she helped him take off his jeans, and then they were together, rolling in soft sheets as they kissed and the air slipped in warm from the garden, carrying the scent of roses as their bodies heated up and the summer breeze cooled their flesh as both perspired.

Alex slid down the bed, parting her thighs and taking her sex into his mouth as he lapped at her, then sucked, then kissed, and then lapped again as she came hard and fast, flooding his face with her heat and crying out as she enjoyed the freedom of this big empty house with no one else around to hear them. He was on his back as their gaze met and she whispered that she loved him, and then she was on top because of his leg, riding him to a slow climax that made his hair damp with sweat as he shuddered and lost control inside her. Then they lay together as the skies darkened to pitch, embracing naked in messed up sheets as the heat of the day lifted, and they slept deeply.

Morning came bright and warm. Alex had a hangover and every time he moved he said _fuck_ as his painful leg throbbed. Zara left his pills beside the bed, along with a glass of water and some coffee and toast, then she kissed him, reminded him not to let his coffee get cold, and he had murmured something and gone back to sleep. After realising he wouldn't properly wake until late thanks to that stolen booze, she left him a note that morning:

_Alex, I'm going into the city to explore. Don't worry – I'm keeping away from the Narrows! I'll be back at noon!_

Then she left the house and took a drive into the city alone.

Zara parked the car by the river at the same spot they had been the day before, then walked past the Penguin mural and down a cobbled street, taking care not to stray from the main pathway as she passed some old stores with faded shop signs, and then came to a wide market square. Here the place was buzzing with life, it was a mix of clothing stalls and jewellery and fabrics, here and there hot dog stands were selling their wares. And people from all walks of life from the well dressed to the lesser well off were milling about the place, exploring everything from the clothing on offer to the perfumes and cosmetics to the mystical, where sellers had crystals and tarot cards on display. She passed a stall where decorative mirrors hung, on the table surface, smaller ones all reflected her face as she looked at them, then she passed it by and went onward, as something fascinating caught her eye:

_Umbrellas._

There was an old man selling umbrellas, and not just any kind. They were large and black with ornate handles of carved wood and silver. They were exquisite...

 _A gift for the Penguin,_ ran through her mind, and that thought didn't let go as she found herself walking closer. Her gaze shifted along the row of umbrellas, then she saw one with a handle different to the others, silver in colour and beautifully engraved with ornate swirls.

“I'll have that one,” she said, and moments later was walking away from the market place with a closed umbrella with a silver handle that had cost much more than it was probably worth – but it was beautiful, and she was still thinking about the reason she had bought it as she headed back to the car...

_Why had she bought it?_

_What was she thinking, to give it to Penguin?_

She shook her head, but her steps slowed as she reached the mural where Oswald's image looked back at her from the shade of an open umbrella.

“Mr Penguin,” she said thoughtfully, then she smiled. Even Ed Nygma had said the myth was bullshit... although, she still couldn't figure out why he had seemed agitated back at the house when he had moved that mirror so it no longer reflected the table...

She had said she would not venture into the Narrows. But that place she had seen yesterday with that beautiful mural and the gifts all around it, was too tempting not to see again. She felt a pull towards it that she couldn't resist as she went down the alley, crossed the narrow street and stepped through the broken doorway into the abandoned building.

She stayed in the doorway, looking into the eyes of the mural of Oswald Cobblepot as sunlight fell in through a broken window, lighting on his eyes.

Then she saw movement in the shadows and stumbled backwards, catching her breath. Relief flooded through her as she saw a little girl no older then eight walking away from the mural, and as she headed for the doorway, she stopped and looked up at Zara. The girl wore a light blue dress and her shoes looked a little scuffed. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders and as she looked up at her with big dark eyes, she spoke up.

“Hello,” she said, and looked at the umbrella in her hand, “Is that a gift for Mr Penguin?”

“I think it might be, do you think I should leave this here?” she asked.

The child shook her head.

“No,” she said solemnly, “He's not here. He will know where he wants you to leave it. If you don't know, wait for him to tell you.”

As they turned away from the shrine and crossed the street, she realised the girl was taking the same route as her, down the alley and back out to the cobbled street where beneath the bridge, the other mural of Oswald was protected from the weather, as his image looked out from beneath his umbrella.

“Do you think the story of The Penguin is real?” Zara asked.

The girl nodded.

“So, if he's not at the shrine, where is he?” Zara asked kindly, fascinated by the child's belief in the myth.

The girl dropped her voice to a whisper:

“ _He is in the alleys of Gotham, and in every tall building in the city. He is a whisper on the wind across the river. He is in the rain that falls when the sky is grey. He is everywhere!”_

She felt another chill run down her spine. _Wow, that was one hell of an intense myth..._

“But where is he, right now?” she asked.

The girl looked to the words on the wall, _Oswald Lives,_ and pressed a finger to her lips.

“ _Shh!”_ she said.

“Kara?”

As the child turned and waved and a woman in a white dress hurried over, Zara looked at her apologetically.

“I'm sorry, I was just talking to her about the murals.”

The woman stood there as the breeze from the river rippled the delicate fabric of her dress, and then she looked at her daughter and noticed her scuffed shoes.

“Kara, I told you to keep out of that shrine! Look at your new shoes!”

“I'm sorry, Mom,” she said with a smile and then she skipped away to reach daylight, where she stood watching the river and waiting for her mother.

“I'm Zara Fox, I'm a writer, I'm here to research the Penguin myth and to look into the history of old Gotham,” Zara said, “Your little girl seemed to believe the myth is real – she was in the shrine room across the street when we bumped into each other.”

The woman looked at her. And the first thing that struck Zara, was how remarkably fresh and clear her skin looked. She couldn't tell if she was in her thirties or older, but she had a look of timeless beauty about her as the wind whipped up the ends of her dark brown hair.

“Oh yes,” the woman said at once, “You're the writer, I heard all about your visit from Jim Gordon. We're old friends, we go way back. I do hope you're not going to dig up too much of the past – people don't need to associate this town with Hugo Strange and human experiments.”

“No, I'm just looking at the general history, and separating fact from fiction regarding the Penguin myth. Did you know Oswald?”

As she asked that question, she wasn't even sure if this woman could have been old enough to recall him, but she smiled on hearing that question.

“I do remember him well. Hope you're aware that there's a lot of crap written about him that isn't true?”

“I found out from Ed Nygma that he died fighting for the city, he was a war hero.”

The woman smiled again.

“None of us will ever forget his brave sacrifice,” she agreed, and then she paused, hesitating for a moment, “It's a good thing you're doing, telling it how it was, I don't doubt Ed will be very helpful with that. But please don't go too deeply into the summoning myth.”

“Why not?” asked Zara.

“Because there are some things that are best left alone,” she replied, then she glanced over at her daughter nearby and lowered her voice as she spoke again, “They say ten years back, the city had a corrupt mayor who wanted to tear down half the old houses and leave thousands homeless... Among the places destined for demolition was the apartment where Penguin grew up with his mother. Next thing we hear, the mayor was found in his office with his throat cut. The door was locked from the inside. No one ever found the murder weapon, but it was suggested a dagger of some kind was used. People say The Penguin did it to save the poorer neighbourhoods, and save his late mother's home. There's definitely more to the myth than you might think...And I should know that personally too, as I did the ritual fifteen years ago.”

“What happened?”

As Zara asked that question, the warm breeze seemed to dip to a chill as it blew in off the nearby river.

“I can't say for sure but I do know some things should be left alone,” she replied, “I knew Oswald. I was a teenager when I went into his employment, I worked as an enforcer for the Penguin back in the early days...and what I saw, what I felt in that mirror...” she suddenly glanced about the shadowy area, as if afraid something was listening, and then she shook her head “Just leave it alone,” she said, “Tell your story of Oswald the hero, tell the story of this great city – but please, leave the ritual alone.”

Then she turned away and hurried over to her daughter, telling her they were going home.

“Wait!” Zara called as she stepped out of the shadow beneath the bridge, “What's your name?”

The woman looked back as she reached her car. The little girl had just got in the back and she was about to get in the driver's side.

“My name is Brigit Pike,” she called back, “Good luck with your book, Ms Fox.”

The she got into the car and drove off as Zara stood there, suddenly realising who this woman was, and her eyes grew wide as she stared at the car as it drove off, heading for the main road:

She had read enough about his climb to power to know that Oswald's female enforcer had been named Bridgit Pike. Once an arsonist who had accidentally set herself on fire, and her fire proof suit had melted into her skin, she had been left with terrible scars and Hugo Strange had experimented on her to save her life. She had become Firefly, and she had worked for The Penguin...

_This woman with her flawless, magazine-cover style skin, was Bridgit Pike?_

_How could that be?_

Then it hit her:

_The ritual?_

_Had Oswald fixed her skin?_

_Did he heal people?_

She turned her head, looking back at the mural half shrouded in darkness, feeling a powerful urge speak to it, to ask for a sign... but she let common sense win and went back to the car instead, then drove away from the river, taking the route back to the mansion as her mind swirled with questions that were seeming less crazy by the minute:

_Was there any truth to the myth?_

_The more she learned, the more she wanted to believe..._

When she got back to the mansion, she hurried inside, keen to tell Alex about her meeting with Oswald's former enforcer. But as she called his name, she got no reply.

“Alex?” she called again, hurrying up the stairs.

The house was silent. Zara opened the bedroom door to find Alex sitting on the bed, his eyes red from weeping as he rubbed at his painful, scarred leg. His hair was damp from the shower and he was wearing a bathrobe and as he looked at her, he couldn't hide the distress that made his voice tearful.

“ _I really screwed up last night... I never should have come off those pills. This fucking pain is killing me! It hurts so much, sometimes I wish I was dead!”_

“No, you don't, please don't say that!”

She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him tightly, as over his shoulder her gaze fell on the item she had placed by the bed, leaning it there quickly in her haste to comfort Alex:

_The umbrella she had bought at the market._

Suddenly performing the ritual wasn't such a crazy idea, there was nothing to lose. If Oswald's ghost was real, surely he would pity Alex, who walked with a limp and suffered pain every day of his life? It had been said Oswald had suffered terribly with his damaged leg, and had always walked with a limp. Maybe, if there was truth to the legend, Oswald would sympathise and maybe if she asked him, if she did the ritual exactly right, _maybe_ he would heal Alex... Zara was still hugging him tightly, still looking at that umbrella as she made up her mind:

_Yes, it would be a gift for the Penguin._

_She would carry out the ritual tonight..._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was a rough day for Alex. He had endured bad days before when he had left off his pain pills and then paid the price with pain so bad he had, on occasion, thrown up because of it. Later on that afternoon, he had been throwing up in the bathroom and Zara wasn't sure if it was the hangover or the pain that had caused it. Alex had days when his injury gave him depression. Black, endless depression that was hard to come back from. Most of the time, he was okay. Then he would have a terrible day and spiral downward, and today was one of those days...

Zara helped him get cleaned up and then she put her arm around him and helped him limp painfully back to bed. She didn't remind him he shouldn't have taken the bottle from the shrine, because he had suffered enough and didn't need more criticism over it. The bottle was almost empty. He had put away a _lot_ of booze the night before. Once he was sleeping again, she knew he wouldn't be up until morning. By then, with the booze moving out of his system, he could go back on his pain relief. He hated living like this.

She watched from the bedroom doorway as he slept with the covers off, he was in his underwear and resting, lying there otherwise flawless but for the scars on his body from the accident. The worst scar ran down his lower leg. Every joint was held together with pins. Her heart ached for him, she hated feeling powerless to do a thing about it, too – but what could she do? His life had changed forever the day he had rolled his car on the track. She had not known him then, and wished she had known him, so she could have been there for him at his darkest, hardest time, when he had needed someone there for him like never before...

_So, it's come to this,_ she decided as the hour grew late and the hand on the clock in the downstairs hallway inched closer to midnight, _Here I am, a normal person, about to do something stupid... I'm really doing this. I'm going to play the Penguin summoning game...Just in case it's real._

It couldn't be real...

Common sense was telling her that over and over as she carefully carried a candle, matches and the umbrella into the dining room and went over to the mirror. The room was in darkness, the mirror reflecting the doorway because it was still in the same place Ed had repositioned it. She was wearing nothing but a t shirt that fell to her knees, and as she knelt before the mirror and placed the candle in front of her, she heard the clock begin to chime the hour as she opened up the box of matches.

 _Superstitious crap, of course,_ ran through her mind:

_No way is this real._

_I haven't played with a candle and a mirror at midnight for years._

_Not since I was ten years old and played Bloody Mary._

_Nothing happened then._

_Nothing will happen now._

_But what do I have to lose?_

The match struck with a sharp spurt and she touched it to the wick as the flame glowed taller, casting a glow up the mirror as she knelt before it, the room reflected dark and hollow behind her as her own candlelit features looked back at her. She got up from the floor, leaned in closer, running her fingertips over the cool surface of the glass as it misted a little as she breathed softly against it.

“ _Mr Penguin...”_ she said in a low voice, _“You are the true king of Gotham...”_

she looked left and right, then back into her own eyes.

It was still just a mirror...

“ _Mr Penguin,”_ she repeated, _“I have a gift for you.”_

She picked up the umbrella and leaned it against the frame, still intently looking at the mirror, and this did not feel like the time when she was ten years old and played Bloody Mary.

_This felt... real?_

_As if someone was watching her._

_Waiting in shadow, as if at any moment, she would see him..._

“My one wish is that my boyfriend Alex can be healed. That's all I want, no more pain for him,” she said as she looked into the mirror, “I love him. I want him to be happy again. He shattered his leg, he walks with a limp like you did. Please help him, I'm not asking for anything for myself. I just want Alex to be healed...”

The room felt silent, so very still, as if the darkness had a weight all of its own. She touched fingertips to the glass once more, and it was cold and smooth and the glass seemed to swirl behind her as shadows began to move.

“ _Mr Penguin?”_ she whispered as her throat grew tight, _“Are you real?”_

The light came on.

She gave a gasp as she saw Oswald standing behind her.

_No, not Oswald._

_It was Alex._

_Shit, Alex had caught her playing this stupid mirror game!_

“I just wanted to try the ritual, for the experience,” she said, as her heart raced and she drew in a shaky breath, managing a nervous smile. She was far too jumpy to crack any jokes about him standing there as dark turned to light and looking like Oswald for a spilt second, because he _did_ kind of look like him anyway...

“I know it was a dumb idea!” she added apologetically.

But as he limped over to her with his fair hair messed up by sleep and every scar on his body looking stark under the light as he stood there in just his shorts, he had tears in his eyes.

“Don't make excuses, you just did that for me. I heard what you said... it's the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me!”

He reached for her, hugging her tightly.

“And I love you  _ so _ much for that!” he added, blinking back tears as he drew back and met her gaze, “It doesn't matter that the summoning ritual isn't real, you wanted it to be real, just in case it  _ was _ real, you did it, for me! You wanted to heal me!”

A tear ran down his face.

“There was nothing to lose by trying,” she admitted.

He ran his fingers through her hair as he looked into her eyes.

“And you don't know how much this means to me! You must be desperate for me to get better!”

“Of course I am!”

Sadness flickered in his hazel eyes.

“But I won't.”

“And I know that.”

He managed a smile at last.

“But you still tried this, just for me. You are _so_ much more than I deserve! I'm so lucky to be with you!”

“I'm the lucky one,” she assured him, and hugged him again.

As she drew back, his mood had brightened as he glanced at the mirror and saw the umbrella rested against it.

“Did anything happen?”

“Like what?”

“I know it's not real, but I was still wondering if anything weird happened, when you called him.”

She laughed softly as she shook her head.

“Just shadows, from the candle light.”

She stepped back and turned to the mirror, pinched out the flame and a trail of smoke curled upward.

“Maybe we should leave the umbrella for him, just in case he likes it,” Alex said with a wink. 

“That would be nice,” she agreed, and she took his hand as together, they left the room, turned out the light and went back upstairs.

Next morning, Zara woke in his arms as Alex kissed her softly. All trace of his depression was gone - for now - and his gaze reflected love as he held her in his arms.

“I woke up this morning thinking, my girlfriend loves me so much, she tried a spooky mirror ritual to conjuror up a dead underworld crime boss to heal me! And my leg still hurts but I took my pills and I can live with it. Knowing how much you love me, to do something so crazy, is mind blowing! It almost makes me forget I'm crippled for life!”

Then he let go of her and sat up, and tried to get up.

“Fuck!” he hissed as pain shot down his leg, then he glanced back at her, but he was still smiling.

“Almost!” he said again as they exchanged a smile, and then he got up stiffly and limped slowly to the bathroom to take his morning shower.

They started the morning slowly, with Alex leaving the shower and going downstairs to cook breakfast while he insisted she stayed in bed. As Zara lay on her back and the cool breeze came in fresh from the garden with just a hint of warm rain that had fallen before sunrise, she felt revived. Soon the heat of the day would climb, but not yet... She closed her eyes, thinking about last night and the mirror as she pictured Oswald Cobblepot standing behind her, as she saw him reflected in the glass and he slid his hand up her thigh, then gently toyed with her wetness.

“ _A little eager for a first encounter,”_ he whispered in her ear in that same, silky smooth voice she had heard in old film footage of his speeches made decades before when he had once, for a short while, been mayor of this city... Oswald sounded so cultured, his voice like satin, and she could almost smell his cologne and the way his masculine scent came through the expensive fabric of his suit as his breath was hot against her ear. His lips were soft as they brushed against her cheek as his hand slid lower and he pushed two fingers inside her and started to fuck her with them.

“ _Oswald...”_ she whispered.

The door swung open. She looked up with glazed eyes to see Alex standing there wrapped in a bathrobe. He put down a breakfast tray and reached inside the robe, stroking his hardening cock as he watched her fingertips rub at her clitoris.

“Oh yeah, have your fantasy, please don't stop!”

She rubbed harder and faster, thrusting her hips upwards as he started to fuck her with his fingers. Exactly as she had imagined Oswald doing it... and when he whispered  _ Call me Oswald, _ she did.

“ _Fuck me, Oswald!”_ she gasped, and then she climaxed sharply, giving a moan as he pushed his fingers in deep, watching her wetness spill out as his other hand stroked his cock.

“Quick!” he said urgently, limping closer to the bed.

She was weak with orgasm as he pulled her towards him, guiding her mouth on to his cock.

“Oh yes, suck me dry!” he gasped, and she sucked him hard as every nerve in her body felt alive from the hard climax. He came quickly into her mouth, spurting fast as he gave a gasp, and he was flushed and a little breathless as he withdrew from her, then he leaned hard on the night stand as he paused to recover, shifting the weight from his damaged leg.

“That was awesome!”

“Sorry I said Oswald!”

He laughed.

“Why be sorry? That was kinky, I loved it! You say I look a bit like Oswald, so why should I be jealous of a dead guy who looked a bit like me? Of course you fantasise about both of us!”

There was a playful sparkle in his eyes now.

“Still want breakfast?”

“Your cum was enough!” she giggled, and as he laughed too, she sat up and beckoned for the tray.

“Just kidding. I'm starving!”

“And there's plenty more where that came from,” he said as he set down the tray.

“Later,” she told him playfully, “You need to rest your leg, Alex. I want to be sure you're okay before we start touring the city.”

Alex had just taken off his bathrobe, and he didn't care about his scars as he stood there smiling at Zara.

“I'll be fine,” he promised her as he reached for his jeans, “I still hurt, but in every other way, I feel wonderful!”

“Maybe there was something in that ritual,” she remarked as she started to enjoy breakfast, eggs that had been scrambled to perfection.

“No, it's just my painkillers, and the fact that I know how much you love me,” he replied, “I still can't get over what you did - I know it's bullshit but some people would stay that's occult stuff you messed with, _and_ you did it all for me!”

“But nothing happened,” she reminded him.

As she said that Zara felt surprised at her own sense of disappointment. A small part of her that had wanted to believe had hoped for a miracle, that Oswald would appear and grant her wish - but of course, nothing had happened. But at least the ritual had done some good - but only because Alex was so moved by her gesture. And while it seemed there was no truth to the myth, at least finding out what she had done for him had lifted Alex out of his low mood. She hoped it would last, because if it did, they would both have a wonderful stay in Gotham while she worked on the book, now his mood had improved, it still had the potential to be a great summer...

By eleven that morning, they had parked the car close to the river and crossed through streets and alleys and cautiously navigated the area where the city linked with the Narrows. As they walked together through the streets, it was clear this part of town, with its history and its bad reputation, had been somewhat cleaned up - there was a definite sense of safer times now patrol cars regularly passed by, and after finding and photographing three murals, they paused to study the map once more. By now Alex had said they had enough pictures for one day, and next time they came here they would be going into less safe territory, and would need to drive through instead because he didn't want to take any chances.

“I still need more pictures,” she reminded him, and then they turned back as he paused, pain registering on his face as his leg throbbed.

“I need to sit down,” he said, rubbing at his leg as he looked about the down town street, “What a time for my leg to be useless! If we got robbed at knifepoint now, I couldn't do a thing about it!”

“It's not your fault!” she reminded him as she put her arm around him and began to lead him over to the entrance to a park, there was a cop car parked nearby and the place looked deserted. It was daylight, this was as safe as it would get in an area like this...

They sat down on a bench together, just inside the entrance to the park. Trees lined the pathway that led to a wide open space, and no one else was around. Looking to the street the busy world hurried by, and that cop car was still reassuringly close to the park, just across the street.

“We can rest here for a little while, then walk back,” she said to him, “You're always okay after a short rest.”

He gave a sigh.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” she replied, and then she stood up and raised her camera, “I can get some great shots in here, it's a beautiful day, I want to include contemporary open spaces in the book and I bet this place hasn't changed much in thirty years... we're also two blocks way from the building where Oswald was born!”

“And that's for another day,” Alex replied.

“I'm going to take more shots,” she said, and then she walked a short distance up the path and stopped, seeing a smaller path branch off, leading downward. Trees lined the way and sunlight beckoned. She glanced back.

“Two minutes!”

“Zara, no!” he protested as he rubbed at his leg again, trying to ease the ache.

“Two minutes, Alex!” she said again, and then she stepped on to the pathway and raised her camera.

Through the lens, she saw a man walking up the path, he was making his way stiffly up the slope and strangely, he had an umbrella up, an open umbrella on a bright day like this... She lowered the camera.

_Nothing._

_The path was empty..._

She raised it again, looking through the lens. The man was limping sharply, his leg dragging and turned out, but his dark suit was immaculate and there was something old style about it, his long coat was open and the collar decorated with long, dark feathers but his hair was in long, sweeping black spikes and his eyes were piercing as they met with hers. He was limping closer now, as her eyes widened and her heart raced as fear jolted through her body:

_It couldn't be._

_It looked like... Oswald Cobblepot?_

Her hand shook as she took a shot, the shutter opened and closed and she gave a sharp gasp as she lowered the camera.

He was standing before her. The breeze ruffled the feathers on the collar of his coat. His fine suit was black pinstripe and his waistcoat was embroidered with gold. His tie was scarlet and as he stood there, she realised the umbrella gone as he limped closer, his pale complexion standing out starkly against his jet back hair. His cologne was just as heady as she imagined it would be and she was rooted to the spot with fear as he shifted in a blur, suddenly behind her now, his arm about her waist as she felt his breath warm against her ear and he raised a concealed blade from his cane and pressed it gently to her body. She felt the coldness of its tip as it slid down the fabric of her summer dress.

“ _Shh,”_ he whispered in her ear, “It's too late to be afraid of me now, Zara. Remember, _you_ called to me!”

She took in a shaky breath, trembling as he held her there, wondering exactly what she had summoned up - clearly in death, Oswald was menacing and nothing like she had imagined him to be after hearing about his heroism in war time from Edward Nygma....

“Yes, I summoned you!”

“ _And you lied!”_ he hissed in her ear.

“ _No, no, I didn't lie to you!”_

As he held her there, she looked desperately about but saw no one – then she realised, even if anyone passed her, they wouldn't see Oswald, because he was a ghost...

“You _did_ lie!”

“ _No I did not!”_

He let her go. In a split second the blade was gone, he was gone from behind her, and now, he was in front of her.

“Yes, you did!” he huffed, “I have  _ no _ patience with time wasters!”

“I asked you to heal Alex!”

There was a cold gleam in Oswald's eyes as he leaned closer.

“ _And that is not your heart's desire,”_ he whispered,  _ “We both know that!” _

There was a flash of steel on sunlight as that blade was in his hand once more, and she felt its tip under her chin as she raised her head, meeting his gaze.

“ _Please!”_ she gasped, _“Let me go!”_

A smile crept to his face as he slid his hand down her body, it come to rest low on her belly.

“Your hearts desire is  _ not _ to heal Alex!” he said accusingly, “Just because you wanted it, doesn't mean it's your ultimate wish! You feel empty. You long for the child you can never have.  _ That _ is why you called to me!”

She couldn't move for the blade beneath her chin. She blinked away tears.

“I love Alex. I just wanted to  _ help _ him!”

“We can help each other,” he said in a voice of ice and silk, “Just remember you summoned me! What I do about that is  _ not  _ negotiable!”

She gave a gasp as he drew away the blade and then as she blinked, he was gone... She was still shaking. It seemed crazy to think she had just met Oswald, the man she had summoned who seemed nothing like he had been in life – in death, something came off him, cold and dark that she could only think of as pure evil and it seemed to contradict everything she had heard about Oswald in life...

But it _was_ Oswald, he looked like Oswald, he sounded like Oswald...

 _Maybe death had changed him a lot,_ she thought as she wiped away her tears and turned from the pathway, then she hurried back to the bench where Alex was waiting.

“You were gone for fifteen minutes!” Alex exclaimed as he limped out of the park and they began to walk back the way they came, heading for the safer side of town and the place where the car was parked, “I was worried sick, Zara!”

She glanced at him, and he saw her face was pale.

”What's wrong? What happened?”

“I saw him,” she said as she walked a little faster and Alex felt the pain in his leg increase as he struggled to keep up, “I saw Oswald Cobblepot! He grabbed me, he had a knife, he was talking crazy about me lying to him when I summoned him... he said I would have to work with him, like I had no say in it -”

“ _Stop!”_

Alex was in front of her now, his eyes wide with worry as he looked at her.

“Some creep grabbed you in the park? Threatened you? Did he touch you -”

“No, it was Oswald Cobblepot! I  _ saw _ him!”

Alex looked as confused as he felt as he looked into her eyes.

“Zara,” he said, “Cobblepot's been dead for years! I think some creep grabbed you and you thought, in your panic, that he was Oswald – who you  _ didn't  _ summon, because ghosts are  _ not  _ real! You must have fought him off, or maybe he saw the cop car and panicked and ran -”

“It wasn't like that! I  _ know _ what I saw!” she protested.

Alex shook his head, then he glanced nervously about the street before putting his arm around her.

“Come on,” he said, “Let's go back to the car. You're not hurt, let's just be glad you're okay. This is a bad area - it could have been much worse.”

A short while later they reached the safety of the car and got in. As Alex reached for the keys, she spoke up.

“Wait - I took a picture of him. I have a picture on my camera, as he walked towards me, I took a shot, I have proof!”

“Then show me the son of a bitch, we can take it to the GCPD, maybe they can ID this freak!”

She accessed her shots of the park, then the picture of the pathway.

“What the fuck...” she muttered, taking a closer look at the image, then showing it to Alex as confusion registered in her gaze.

“There's nothing there but an empty pathway,” Alex said to her, “And maybe we should rethink this whole trip, ever since you first read about this city, you've been obsessed with the Penguin story! I think your imagination is working overtime, maybe we should focus on the city and the architecture and leave the Penguin myth the hell alone!”

“I can't,” she said quietly, “It's too late for that, I can feel it...”

“And _ that's _ why you're obsessed!” he said angrily, and turned the keys sharply in the ignition. Then they drove back towards the mansion, and all the way, Alex drove in silence as Zara said nothing as she felt a rising sense of dread: 

_ Clearly, that summoning had worked. She had just not been ready for what she had summoned – and now Oswald had answered her call, she felt as if he wouldn't leave her alone, not until he got what he wanted, and she wasn't even sure what that was - yet... _

Later, as evening shadows fell, after a dinner that had seen them talk and the atmosphere between them soften because Alex hated arguments and wanted to clear the air, Zara felt sure their quarrel was over. Alex never went to bed on an argument, he was always the first to apologise and she was thankful for that. She also knew she was right - but pursuing that now would just lead to more falling out, and she loved him too much to push the matter. She felt sure she would find proof, then, he would believe her. But for now, as the world outside darkened and shadows lengthened in the places where the lamplight didn't reach, she felt a little uneasy as she sat on top of the covers on the bed, next to Alex, who was resting to be sure his pills would work and keep him out of the worst of the pain. While he was doing that, she was beside him, her laptop open as she looked at the downloaded pictures one by one:

The Gotham river as sunlight sparkled on its surface, the view of the city from the bridge, the shots of the architecture, they were all perfect for the book. She moved on to shots of the murals, the one beneath the bridge, then the full length painting of Oswald in the shrine room with the gifts below his painted image as sunlight spilled in, lighting on his eyes.

“I think this one might be the cover for the book,” she said, and then she began to enlarge the picture, moving about the image as she took in every detail.

It was then she stopped.

“Alex... what's that?”

He had been leaning against pillows and stretching out his damaged leg. He turned his head and glanced at the image, Zara had zoomed in on the wall beside the Penguin mural, into part shadow.

“Bricks, old bricks, Zara.”

“No, there's something else... a circle? And I think there's another one do you see, two faint circles in shadow?”

He took another look at the screen, giving a sigh, sensing the rise yet again of Zara's obsession with the Penguin mystery...

“It's pixelating, you're in too close, I can't tell – graffiti? Dust on the lens? A reflection from the flash? It's nothing, Zara.”

She frowned, taking the zoom back a little, but now the circles were still blurred. She reduced it further and now saw only smudges.

“I can't quite see what it is. There's something there!”

He paused, holding back on accusing her of being obsessed yet again as he took another look.

“It's an old place, it's a mess in there. It's probably some old graffiti, like I just said! Leave it alone, Zara, the main image is fine.”

She shook her head, moving along to the other images as the thought stayed with her.

“Dust on the lens does _not_ look like that. And there was nothing to reflect off, it was an old, crumbling wall... I need to take a look at it on a big screen on another device – it's a good camera but this is my cheap laptop, I always use the basic one when I'm travelling...”  
She paused again, looking at the shots she had taken of the pathway in the park.

“There it is again!”

Alex glanced at the image, seeing a pathway, trees, and sunlight at the end of it were the route led to the open space beyond.

“Nothing there. Please don't bring up that ghost encounter in the park, it didn't happen, Zara! You said you had a picture of him and there's no one in this picture!”

“So what's _that?_ ”

She pointed to an area of the picture where the trees met with sunlight, seeing half a small circle glowing as sun rays passed through it.

“The sun on the trees, the leaves are bright, maybe the light was bouncing around when you took the shot - and it's nothing!”

“But why a circle, again? A small circle?”

“You're making nothing into something, Zara.”

Refusing to give up, she ran through every picture again, insisting Alex looked at each shot.

“Just tell me if you see anything odd about any of these pictures,” she said to him as they sat there and he did as she asked, purely because he loved her.

She reached the final picture, then closed it down and the screen displayed thumbnails of everything in the file.

“Anything?” she asked.

He felt mildly surprised as a conclusion did come to mind. It wasn't what she was looking for, but to Alex, one thing seemed very clear, at least about the actual murals...

“I do see something...” he said, indicating to the mural pictures, “These two are twenty years old, we saw them in The Narrows... The one under the bridge is maybe three years old, or more – it's shielded from the weather down there... but the one at the shrine looks recent and it's not on any map...” he turned his head and met her gaze.

“I know some street art can be similar, its supposed to be if it's a culture thing in this area...But all these paintings of The Penguin look the same, his face, his eyes, the way he's looking out from the wall. It's not similar, it's identical - I think every mural in this city was made by the same person.”

She stared at him.

“But the legend -”

“Just because people believe, it doesn't mean they all paint murals. These are not amateur street art, they're professional quality – and all identical, Zara. One person is painting these murals, I'm sure of it. Look at them, it's all by the same artist.”

She did look, closely at each picture. And to her surprise, for all his refusal to believe in ghosts, Alex had most certainly got this right - the paintings were identical... She grabbed the map of the murals and opened it up, seeing images beside each marked off place on the grid.

“Where's the oldest one?”

“Here,” Alex told her, indicating to a small image painted of Oswald on the blank wall on the side of an apartment building deep in the Narrows, “That one is twenty years old. The next one was three years later, an umbrella with his name beneath it on a wall near a coffee shop, beneath that, the words _Oswald Lives_ had been added, identical to the wording on the mural under the bridge.”

“And the ones we photographed today are between five and eight years old.”

The two we found when we first got here are much more recent because they're not on the mural map yet,” she concluded.

“Right,” he agreed, “So that means, for twenty years, someone has been making these murals around the poorer side of town... starting off small and then getting more ambitious. It looks like professional art, too.”

Then he saw the look of enthusiasm in her eyes.

“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head, “Please don't tell me you're planning to comb this  _ huge _ city for -”

“One person,” she confirmed, “I want to find the artist. I want to speak to them!”

Alex gave a sigh as he leaned back against his pillows.

“I do not want to walk for miles around the city with my painful leg, asking around for an artist who is probably determined to remain anonymous.”

“I'll do it, I'll take a drive tomorrow and ask around. And I'll stay away from the Narrows. I won't go right in, I'll be safe.”

He gave her a weary glance.

“On your own? No, I'm coming with you.”

She smiled as she leaned in closer.

“Great, you can rest your leg and wait in the car,” she told him with a smile, then she kissed him before he could raise objection to her plan.

Over at the GCPD, James Gordon had been working late. He was not on a case, more like trying to prevent a future case... Oswald Cobblepot's mirror had a long and bloody history. Stories were plenty about rituals to summon him, and when whatever came back from death emerged, according to the tales he had heard, people didn't exactly get their hearts desire for performing the ritual. There had been murder and suicides linked to that mirror, those who lived with enough sanity intact to speak of what had happened often said he had asked them for a favour, and it was always terrible, and when they were rewarded, it was a twisted version of what they had asked for. Few people had carried out the ritual and survived. Most of those who did had gone crazy and most had died later apparently by their own hands.

Getting rid of the mirror was impossible. 

Years back a guy had fired a gun at it, trying to break the curse that lie within. The bullet had bounced off without leaving a scratch and hit him in the chest, killing him instantly. Jim had tried to arrange for the mirror to be moved from the house. The vehicle that took it away left the main gates and was hit by a speeding truck, the vehicle had been wrecked and the people inside killed on impact but that mirror didn't have as much as a crack... He had once been at home, talking about his plans to destroy the thing himself. He figured a hammer ought to do the job. And as Jim said that, his wife Lee had given a gasp, looking on in horror as the lace cloth spread out over their dining room table had ignited. Later that night, the fire alarm had gone off. The kitchen was burning. Smoke damage was easy to paint over, but nothing could paint over the memory of his daughter telling him,  _ Daddy, I saw a shadow in my room last night, it was a man and he had fire in his hand...  _

After that, Jim had ordered the mirror moved to the attic at the mansion, and there it had stayed - until Zara Fox had come along, wanting to write that damned book...He got why Ed was so supportive of this, of course he wanted to see Oswald's story told, Oswald the war hero...

As he sat there at his desk, he felt a sweeping wave of emotion hit him without warning as he recalled Oswald, lying in that bed, terribly injured from the grenade, that was the day Ed had fallen to his knees and wept as he regretted all the chances lost when they could have had a happy life together. Ed had told him he loved him and he was sorry and Oswald, despite his pain, had said he loved him too, and whispered there was nothing to forgive... In the end, Oswald had been a hero, a fearless man who had known he was looking death in the face when the took up arms to fight for Gotham, but he had done it anyway for the future of the city...

_The man who had lived, and his fearsome ghost of urban myth, were worlds apart._

Jim also knew Firefly had done the summoning, and he knew the price she had paid too, a price for her ravaged skin to be beautiful once more - and it had turned out, the hard bargain driven to gain her deepest desire had not proven to be the cruel twist it had first seemed when she had been ordered to pay her price for his favour... Firefly was one of the few who had got what she wanted after trying out the ritual...

And there were many more stories like that one, some good, some bad, and some terrible. In life, Oswald had been a force to be reckoned with, a dark force but ultimately a force for the good of Gotham City. Not so much a devil, more like a dark angel. But in death, the force that lived in that mirror was something _ not _ to be messed with. 

_But people kept on trying it._

They kept on getting results, too - but  _ never _ in the way they expected...

And Zara and Alex seemed like good people. They didn't deserve what would happen if Zara messed around with the legend. That was why he had to find a reason - any reason - to get them out of that house and out of the city.

And as he looked at the police report bearing the picture of Alex Royce, he studied it for a moment, reading all of it, and then he shook his head.

He wasn't the type to want to tear apart peoples happiness, but if that was what it took to get them out of the mansion, so be it. There was no other way. He looked again at the police report on Alex and shook his head.

“ _Jesus...”_ he whispered,  _ “Who would have thought it, Mr Royce? I bet your girlfriend doesn't know anything about the real you...” _

Now his mind was made up. He would call the house tomorrow and speak to Zara. He didn't want to think about the fallout his actions would cause, but at least if they left town, even if this broke them up, they would still be alive...

By the time Jim's call came next morning, the phone on the wall in the hallway of the mansion rang without answer, as the sound echoed about the silent house, because they had left early that morning to go into the city. After trying twice, Jim gave up, deciding to wait. There would be plenty of time to make the call and speak to Zara, delivering the very last news she would ever want to hear as she realised she didn't know her boyfriend at all, but at least it would put an end to their stay at the mansion, and maybe then, their lives would be saved...

Zara and Alex had just taken a drive across town, heading back to the place where they had found the unlisted murals. It seemed to be a good place to start, in that creepy room with the newest mural and the gifts placed below it on the floor.

“Leave the booze alone this time!” she reminded Alex as they made their way over to the far wall as light spilled in, lighting on the eyes of the Penguin.

Alex looked up at the mural and felt a sense of unease.

“It is creepy, the way the light hits his eyes.”

Then he watched as Zara carefully stepped over bottles and darkened candles in jars, and stood before the mural as she ran her hand over the image, then she looked to the right of it, but saw only brick work.

“No graffiti, nothing here to explain the circles I saw in the shot,” she said, and then she ran her hand over the mural again, her fingertips pausing beneath a thicker layer of paint where shadow had been painted in needlessly beside the Penguin's hand, as he held his cane and his sleeve revealed an embroidered umbrella on the cuff of his shirt.

“This doesn't have to be here...” she murmured.

Alex stepped over the gifts left at the shrine, cursing as his damaged leg knocked a bottle, it fell and there was a crack as it connected with the floor, and the smell of booze rose up in the air.

”Sorry,” he said, then he joined her, watching as she ran her fingertips over that heavy brushstroke beside the hand of the mural.

“What have you found?”

“I'm not sure,” she said, “But this shouldn't be here - it doesn't need to have a painted in shadow area, it's a mural of the Penguin against brickwork, so why that tiny shadow and why so much paint?”

Alex shrugged.

“I guess only the artist knows that.”

She pulled a pen knife from her pocket and opened it up, and Alex watched she began to carefully scrape the blade against the layer of paint, it began to flake away, revealing small, elegant writing hidden beneath it.

“I can't make it out, it's not clear enough,” Alex said as he looked closely at it, “The writing is too small.”

“I need my camera.”

“And a better laptop to view it on,” he reminded her, “Say here, I'll fetch the camera.”

He managed to step around the rest of the gifts below the shrine without causing more damage, then he was out the door and heading for the alleyway as she stood alone, trying not to think about the first time she came here, and the doorway had seemed to vanish. She glanced back over her shoulder, just to be sure the doorway still existed: 

_Yes, still there._

_She hoped it would stay that way..._

Now Zara was alone with the mural she turned back to it, looking up. And then she stepped closer, right up close as her eyes grew wide and she traced her fingertips over the swirling pattern on the painted image of The Penguin's lavish waistcoat. She was starting to see letters had been artfully, secretly woven into the pattern of the fabric... She traced each one with a fingertip, staring at the painting and its intricate lines, sure she could see this, sure it was no illusion. She read the word and whispered it, then stepped back, and now she had stepped away, she could no longer see it. She moved closer once more, and the letters were visible again.

Then she turned away, hurrying out, keen to share her discovery with Alex but with his leg slowing him down, he wasn't back yet. As she crossed the street, she walked smack into a stranger, a guy in a leather jacket with greased back hair who had two other guys with him, and they all looked like trouble.

“Where's the booze?” said one.

“We found something better than booze!” sneered the guy she had collided with, and she had no time to scream as she was pinned roughly up against a wall.

“ _I'm gonna fuck you then rob you,”_ he informed her as beer breath hit her face, and she struggled, but a sharp punch to her jaw made her head swim. She wanted to call for Alex, but with his crippled leg, he couldn't put up much of a fight. There were three of them, they would kill him if he got in their way... She heard a click as one of her attackers companions opened up a flick knife.

“Me first!” said the guy who had her pinned.

And then an arm,  _ just _ an arm, covered by a dark suit snaked around his neck, she saw the flash of an embroidered umbrella on the cuff of the shirt beneath it, and then the flash of a blade as it thrust upward as the other men screamed and ran as her attacker let go, staggering back as the blood spray flowed in an arc from his cut throat and spattered her face. She gave a gasp, unable to scream as she watched in horror as he slumped to the ground, bleeding out from a sliced throat.

Oswald stood before her, sliding his dagger back into the top of his cane, and then he met her horrified gaze.

“ _Just looking after my investment!”_ he said, and then he vanished.

The man on the floor was making a gurgling sound, clutching at his cut throat in vain as the blood ran out of him, soaking the street as he suddenly went limp, lifeless eyes staring skyward.

As Alex limped quickly into the cobbled street and saw the man on the ground and the pool of blood, and took in the sight of Zara with her face splashed with blood as she stood there shaking, she finally drew in enough breath to scream. She was still screaming as Alex held her tightly, saying over and over that it would be okay, she was safe now, but Zara was still screaming as she clung to him, watching as the dead man's blood snaked shining scarlet through the cobblestones...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Alex was waiting patiently but nervously as he paced the floor, wondering why he was stuck in a corridor at the Gotham City police department, not a place wanted to be, considering they had been brought here because of a murder in the Narrows... He had spoken briefly to a cop who had taken his statement, then he had been told to wait, because Jim Gordon wanted to speak to his girlfriend... He wondered why he had been dealt with so fast by a uniform cop, yet Jim had insisted on talking to Zara personally. She had been in the interview room for half an hour now...

As Zara sat there, she felt thankful she had been allowed to clean the blood from her face, and then Jim had brought her a cup of coffee, but now she wanted to leave. She had told him almost everything, at least all that made sense, but as he looked across the table at her, he shook his head as he considered her version of events.

“I need to hear this one more time, Zara. Your boyfriend went to the car to fetch the camera, and in that time, you left the shrine room and crossed the street and the guy grabbed you, and then what?”

“He told me he was going to rape me and rob me, he was specific about that.”

“The two other guys ran off when his throat was cut?”

“I already told you this!” she replied.

“And this is what I have trouble with,” Jim replied, “You said, _someone_ cut your assailant's throat. You didn't see him, but he had a long dagger and came up behind the guy and sliced him? His friends didn't try and stop him, they just ran away?”

She nodded.

”They were terrified.”

“What about you?”

She glared at him.

“Obviously, I was terrified too!”

“And that's why you didn't see his face, the man who killed your attacker?”

She leaned back in her chair, breathing a heavy sigh. There was no way around this, maybe honesty was the best approach...

“If I told you, I don't think you would believe me.”

Jim's expression changed as he looked intently at her.

“Talk to me?”

She looked down at the table, remembering how crazy her version of events had sounded to Alex before the cops had arrived. He didn't believe her, and Jim wouldn't, either...

“I was up against the wall and all I saw - after I struggled and the guy hit me... there was a hand, with a blade, it came over his shoulder and stabbed him in the throat. All I saw was his suit, his dark suit and a pattern on his shirt sleeve, on the cuff... _it was an umbrella._ ”

She slowly met Jim's gaze.

He was staring at her as his face paled.

“And then what did you see?”

“Nothing but a spray of blood in my face, by the time the guy was on the ground, I was alone and that's when Alex found me and called the cops.”

Jim hid his unease as he took in a slow breath.

“You had a knife in your possession, Ms Fox – but it was a pocket knife and there was dried paint on it, and we already know that was not the murder weapon. After the guy hit you I'm guessing everything was a blur. You were lucky to get away. I'm guessing he was killed by a member of a rival gang. You were in a dangerous area, you'd best keep away from that side of town -”

“But you're not listening -” suddenly, she wanted to tell him everything – _did he really think it so impossible the myth could be true?_

“I'm satisfied with your statement. You can go.”

“ _It was Oswald Cobblepot!”_

Jim looked at her for a moment, composing his thoughts as he tried not to look shaken.

“Ms Fox – _Zara_ , Oswald died of his injuries whilst fighting for the liberation of this city back in wartime. I strongly advise you not to start telling people you believe he's capable of returning. We have enough to handle with the murals and the shrines and people believing he's defied death. This city moved on long ago, The Penguin's rule was back in a dark chapter of Gotham history that we have long since left behind. Please, leave it that way.”

She stared across the table at Jim.

”You _know_ something! Have you seen him? Have you done the ritual?”

Jim reached for his tie, tugging it loose as he hoped the sweat he had just broken into didn't show.

“You can think of the mirror ritual one of two ways,” he stated, “It's either nonsense, or it's dark occult subject matter that should be left well alone. I don't know if there's any truth to the myth about the mirror – but I _do_ know that fooling around with that mirror is a bit like using a Ouija board.”

“I did a Ouija at a party with a group of friends many years ago, and nothing happened!”

“Maybe that's because there's nothing out there – or maybe you just got lucky,” he replied, and then he glanced to the closed door and back at Zara as he lowered his voice:  
 _“No matter what you believe in - or don't - it's never a good idea to mess with the unknown. Like a Ouija board, for example. Maybe nothing will happen. Or maybe you'll contact your dead Grandma. Or maybe you'll find something else. It's the same with the mirror ritual. Don't mess with it. If you stare into the dark too long, it might just catch you staring.”_

It was clear Jim knew something, and she was sure she caught a brief flicker of fear in his gaze as he spoke those words of warning.

“I'm not here to do a ritual, just to write a book,” she replied, deciding no more information was the best way to go because clearly, he was afraid of Oswald – but if she asked him why, he would deny everything, because he had already glossed over the murder in the Narrows...

“As soon as you have the information required to get that book done, you need to think about leaving Gotham,” he advised, “That house has never been good for anyone...”

His words had little impact as she looked back at him and shook her head.

“We've done nothing wrong. We are staying as long as the trust allows us to stay.”

In that moment, Jim thought about all the info he had dug up on her boyfriend. But now wasn't the time to hit her with it, she had been through enough shocks for one day, he would wait, there was tomorrow, or the next day, but not right now, not after she had been attacked, it really would be cruel to drop _that_ bombshell on her at this moment...

“You can go,” he said again.

She rose from her seat as the door opened. A tall man, distinguished and decidedly handsome walked in wearing a grey suit.

“Ms Fox?” he said, “I'm Harvey Dent, I was instructed by Mr Nygma to come over here and ensure the GCPD are not giving you a hard time over the attack you suffered today? I take it you _are_ clear on the fact that Ms Fox and her partner Mr Royce were nothing to do with the murder?”

That question was aimed at Jim, who rose from his seat as he nodded.

“You're wasting your time here, Harvey. They're not charged with anything, it's clear Ms Fox was the victim.”

As they spoke together, Zara had looked intently at Harvey Dent:

She knew that name. He had formerly been known as Two Face in his days as a criminal, due mostly to the terrible scaring to one side of his face. But Harvey's features were flawless.

 _He's used the mirror,_ she thought silently, _He did a deal with Oswald..._

Jim had finished talking to Harvey. Jim opened up the door to the interview room and left, taking her statement - or as much of it as he had chosen to write down - with him. Harvey turned to her and placed a bouquet of white roses in her hand.

“This is a gift from Mr Nygma, he hopes you are okay after the incident today and he also hopes it won't put you off this great city of ours.”

She smiled, feeling surprised at Ed's gift.

“How did he know about the murder?” she asked as they walked out of the room together and back down the corridor, where at the end of it, she caught sight of Alex, who breathed a relieved sigh as he stopped pacing and turned to see her heading his way.

“Jim called to let him know,” Harvey replied, “And he responded by calling me, just to be sure the two of you didn't get driven out of town or worse, locked up for a few days to make your stay uncomfortable. Everyone knows Jim has his own way of doing things - he's an honest guy and a great cop, but when it comes to burying the past, he gets a little over zealous.”

As they met with Alex, Zara hugged him tightly.

“Can we leave now?” he asked her, “I really don't like this place!”

“Yes, we're free to go,” she replied.

“Need a ride home?” Harvey offered.

“No, we're fine,” Zara told him.

“Then I'll leave you to enjoy your stay,” Harvey said with a smile, and then he nodded to Alex, and turned away and walked out of the building.

As they headed for the door, Alex noticed the roses.

“Who gave you the flowers?”

”They're from Ed,” she replied, “He was keen to help us out. He also sent his lawyer over to be sure we were okay... his lawyer Harvey Dent, who used to be known as Two Face! He had facial scars and now they're gone!” they stepped out into sunshine as she glanced at Alex, “I bet he's used the mirror, he called to Oswald - I wonder what he had to do to get Oswald to fix his face for him?”

Alex gave a heavy sigh.

“Please, no more of this bullshit!”

They had started walking, taking a route that would eventually lead back to the car, but now she turned back to him in anger.

“It's not bullshit!”

“So what are you saying?” he demanded, “Did Oswald come back from the dead to save you from that rapist? You're totally obsessed with him, Zara!”

“I _saw_ him!” she insisted, “He was there, after the guy bled out, and then he was gone! And I saw something in the mural, too - something you can't deny!”

“Like what?”

“I'll show you,” she told him, “Then you'll believe there's more to this.”

Zara said no more on the subject until they got back to the mansion, then she showered to get rid of the last trace of blood from her skin before putting on a light cotton t shirt and then rejoining Alex in the bedroom. He had stripped to the waist and had taken off his leg brace, the window was open as the summer breeze sighed into the room, and as she sat on the bed and he joined her, pausing to raise and then stretch his painful leg, he glanced at her doubtfully.

“Let's get this over with. Show me this amazing find that's supposed to make me believe in Oswald's ghost!”

“It's not his ghost, but is a find,” she replied.

Zara opened up her laptop, accessed a close up picture of the mural in the shrine room, and began to zoom in on the picture, to an area of waistcoat that was painted in swirls, taking care to adjust the zoom, then she turned the screen to Alex.

“Read it.”

“I'm seeing a piece of the waistcoat from the mural.”

“Look at the pattern. Look for letters.”

He did. He saw the letters woven into the swirl on the painted image of the fine fabric, and then he looked at Zara in surprise.

“It says, _Father_.”

“Ed Nygma said Oswald didn't have any kids. But he must have done – and I'm thinking, the artist is his grown up kid. Oswald died a hero, it would explain why his son or daughter would want him to live on in the murals – so many of them say, _Penguin Lives._ Maybe his kid's wish to preserve the father's memory got mixed up with the legend around the mirror...”

“And there we have the recipe for an urban myth,” replied Alex, and then he started to smile, “And I may have something I can add to that - while we were waiting for the cops, remember when I went back inside because I said, your prints are on the knife and we need to give it to the cops prove it's not the same one that killed that scumbag who attacked you?”

She nodded.

“What about it?”

“While I fetched the knife, I also took a picture on my phone - the area you uncovered on the mural.”

“What does it say?” she asked, “Could you see it clearly?”

“On my phone, yes,” he replied, “I could read it easily.”

He reached for his phone, accessed the picture and enlarged the image of the place where she had scraped the paint away. He watched her face as she started to smile, hoping now she would end her obsession with Oswald's ghost, now that they had uncovered a very _living_ mystery...

“It says Chester Mooney!” she exclaimed, and as she looked at him, her eyes lit up excitedly, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“That Oswald had a son with Fish? Yes, I am,” he replied, “And I looked him up on google, too. There's nothing about his parents anywhere – but he's a very successful artist who lives here in Gotham. And it gets even more interesting - his partner of fifteen years is Brigit Pike. You already met her. They have a daughter together, a little girl named Kara.”

“Ed said Oswald had no kids!”

“Maybe he never told him about Chester.”

“Fish and Oswald were over before Oswald got together with Ed... but Fish was killed in a gang war, Chester would have been a very young child at the time – and Ed was very sure Oswald had no children.”

“He was king of Gotham, he probably sent the kid away because it would have been safer to bring him up out of town,” Alex replied, “But he lives in the city now, and he's very successful. Look at some of his work - look at the way he paints his images, brush strokes just like the ones on those murals!”

And he grabbed the phone, searched online and handed it back to her

“We've got him, that's our artist!” she exclaimed.

“But we haven't,” Alex replied, “There are no pictures of him. He's a very private person.”

“So we need to talk to Ed, maybe ask him to contact Brigit for us.”

He looked at her doubtfully.

”If Ed didn't know about Oswald's son, he will probably want to meet him. But if he did know and he was lying, he could refuse to help us. He could deny everything.”

She paused for thought.

“It's understandable the son of the Penguin would want to publicly stay quiet about who his father was – the son of the legend, people would never leave him in peace if they found out.”

“And you may have to promise not to say a world about this, if you stand a chance of meeting him,” Alex reminded her, “This may not be for the book, this could be just to uncover the truth, and then forget about it again, it's clear he wants to be left in peace.”

“I'll respect that,” she told him, “But I hope I can meet him.”

“And maybe now we have a living person to focus on, you might leave the Penguin myth alone?” he said hopefully.

She smiled as she leaned in, kissing him softly. Deep down, she knew the so called myth would not let go of her, she had no choice in that now, but Alex didn't need to know that. She would say no more about Oswald's ghost until she had proof...

“I won't be messing around with any more mirrors,” was all she said in reply, because at least that part was honest. As for Oswald's ghost, she felt she had no choice in that matter yet – it seemed he had decided to haunt her, and she still didn't know why he had referred to her as his investment...

As the heat of the day rose, they were resting upstairs. After everything that had happened that morning, all Alex wanted to do was sleep and rest his leg after taking a dose of pain relief. Zara was still shaken up. The moment she had been grabbed and slammed against a wall was still with her as she walked up the hallway and opened another window, it was colourful stained glass, and as she opened it up, the drapes beside it shifted as the fresh air came in. Then she looked to the door beside it, the door at the end of the hallway, the door to Oswald's bedroom... It was locked, of course, Ed had told her he kept it locked at all times. But there was something about that door, she couldn't stop looking at it...

The hinge creaked softly as the door knob turned, and it swung open wide open, an invisible invitation to step inside...

She drew in a tight breath, recalling the way Oswald had swiftly slit the throat of her attacker:

_He had saved her._

_That was a good sign, right?_

_So why did she feel so sick with fear?_

“ _ **I'm waiting.”**_

Those words had been whispered smooth as satin in her ear.

She gasped as she turned sharply, but no one was beside her. Then she caught movement at the corner of her vision and turned back to the open doorway. Oswald stood there in the master bedroom, leaning elegantly on his cane as he looked at her.

“ _What do you want?”_ she whispered as her heart beat faster and she started to tremble.

He vanished, fading silently into thin air as she stood there, staring at the empty bedroom.

 _No, don't go in, not alone_ , ran through her mind as she recalled the way he had grabbed her and run that blade down her body, that same blade he had killed her attacker with...

She took a few careful steps backwards then as she turned, she collided with Alex as she gave a gasp.

“ _What the fuck is wrong with you?”_ he exclaimed as he looked back at her wide eyed and slightly shaken up after waking from a deep sleep, then getting up to look for Zara, only to bump into her suddenly as she looked at him like she had seen a ghost.

“We need to go into Oswald's bedroom,” she told him urgently, “Right now, we have to go in there now – together!”

He started to smile.

“You want me to fuck you in his bed? This is a kinky game, _please_ tell me it's a game and it's nothing to do with ghosts, because I'm up for this and I'm hard already and I can get through that lock, I know a cool trick, I just need a hair pin -”

“The doors open,” she said in a hushed voice.

“So maybe Ed Nygma forgot to lock it,” he replied, and he limped towards the doorway and caught her hand, taking her with him as he eagerly led her inside.

The bedroom was full of dark antique furniture, it looked Victorian and the four poster bed was their destination before anything else mattered, the floor was mostly covered by a rug, there was an original fireplace, the walls were heavily patterned in shades of dark red and the drapes at the window were a shade darker, matching the drapes around the posts at the bed that were tied back with gold ropes. It looked romantic, it looked like a room fit for a king. And as they shared a kiss and she fell back on to the bed naked as she cast aside her t shirt, she giggled, watching as Alex tugged down his jeans and underwear together and shed his clothing in record time despite the stiffness in his leg.

The covers were heavy and embroidered, they lay together on top of the bed, on Oswald's pillows, on his fine blankets, in this room that had once belonged to the king of the Gotham underworld. She had glanced about the room more than once but seen no trace of Oswald's ghost.

_Maybe this was what he wanted, to watch her?_

_Was this why he had enticed her into this room, urging her to bring Alex too?_

A sudden thought hit her:

_Why did I bring Alex in here?_

But then Alex reached for her, covering her mouth with a kiss and as she slid her hands over his shoulders and they rolled together and she spread her legs, aching for him to bury deep inside her, as the heat of the day made their bodies damp with perspiration. All she wanted to do was be with him, like this, as she tried not to think about Oswald, or why the door to this room had unlocked itself...

Alex turned on his side as he thrust into her, she wrapped her leg around his hip, well practised at the positions that put no strain on his damaged leg. He was thrusting in and out in a fast rhythm as he panted as she clung on, he was gasping as he watched his cock slick with her wetness as he slid in and out of her and they both cared for nothing but the moment. His lips were parted and his face flushed as he leaned in, his fair hair damp as they kissed and he drew back, kissing her again, this time on her upper chest... _As his raven black hair hung in limp spikes and he breathlessly traced a path of kisses over her breasts, his pale skin was flushing now as he looked up at her as her wide eyes met with a gaze ice blue._

“ _You are so warm, I could be inside you forever!” gasped Oswald Cobblepot._

She tensed, drawing in a sharp breath.

Alex raised his head, his fair hair damp as his hazel eyes met her gaze.

“ _Fuck, yes. I'm coming!”_ he gasped, and he covered her mouth with a kiss. _As he was gone and in his place, Oswald's longer, jet black hair trailed her face in sweat soaked spikes. He drew back, burying deep inside her._

“ _Say Oswald!” he told her, raking his fingers through her hair as she reached for him, digging her nails into Oswald's pale shoulders._

She blinked.

“ _I love you!”_ Alex gasped, and as he gave a brief cry as he came hard inside her, she looked up, saw blood on his shoulders and drew her nails back, instead running her hands softly over the wounds as he kissed her, trembling. Alex was in her arms, breathing hard.

_Alex, not Oswald._

Their bodies were soaked in sweat and the scent of their lovemaking had filled the warm room because the window was closed. He withdrew from her and rolled on his back and chuckled as he turned his head, his face flushed heavily as their gaze met.

“That was wild! _And_ you called me Oswald!”

She turned on her side, placing a kiss on his shoulder where blood had come to the surface where marks from her fingernails looked livid.

“Sorry I hurt you.”

He gazed at her with deepest love reflecting in his gaze.

”It was great,” he said with a smile, “Sex in Oswald's bedroom! And you called me Oswald! I knew you would, this is SO wild!”

He laughed again as she shifted closer, now in his embrace as she rested her head on his chest, shielding his view from the unease in her eyes as she looked about the empty room:

_Had Oswald just used Alex to have sex with her?_

_She had enjoyed it, too..._

She closed her eyes, recalling the moment everything had shifted as Alex had become Oswald, then Alex once more. He seemed to remember nothing of what had happened.

“ _Someone needs some more attention,”_ Oswald whispered.

She heard his voice in her ear, felt his hand between her legs as a fingertip stroked firmly and quickly, light as a feather in her wet slit, dancing over and over on her clitoris as she lay there embracing Alex. She held him tighter. That hand Alex couldn't see was still there, relentless in its attention, pushing her closer to the edge. Her legs shook as she thrust her hips forward, raising her head as she met his gaze and Alex looked at her in confusion.

“What's the matter, Zara?” he said.

_Her thoughts were still with Oswald, his kisses, that look in his eyes as he thrust into her... but it wasn't right that he had this moment. She loved Alex..._

She grabbed his hand, pushing it between her legs as she thrust against it, giving a gasp as she came hard, throbbing against him as his come and her wetness oozed out and ran over the back of his hand as she gasped his name. Then she lay there breathing hard, rolled on her back with her legs open, her sex swollen, lips parted, clitoris engorged and thighs sticky. Alex looked down at her, taking in the sight of her pussy so swollen it looked as if he had been eating it all day long.

“You just looked at me and came without touching yourself?” he exclaimed.

“I love you,” she whispered, and reached for him and held him, as by the doorway, a shadowy figure stood, she caught a smile on his face and a gleam in his eyes that made everything between her legs tingle at the memory of it, and then Oswald's ghost vanished.

_He wants to have sex with me?_

_Is it even cheating if he's dead?_

_How many times has Alex joked about us having a threesome with Oswald's ghost?_

_Is this what he wants from me?_

_He wants sex?_

_That's all he wants in return for curing Alex?  
Does this mean some day soon Alex will wake up and his leg will be okay, he will never be in pain again?_

_This is not such a bad agreement._

_I get to have great sex, and Alex will be healed._

_Yes, I can do this._

_I don't think I'm scared of Oswald any more..._

Those thoughts ran through her mind as they left the bedroom, closing the door behind them. On the way out, she had caught sight of a picture on the dresser of Oswald standing proudly outside his nightclub, in the picture he was as young and handsome as she recalled his spirit to be, and she smiled at the picture as they passed it by, feeling sure that she understood the nature of the deal now.

But next morning when they woke, Alex was still in pain.

She decided to be patient.

Oswald probably wanted to enjoy himself before he fulfilled his end of the bargain, and it would be worth the wait.

_She was doing this for Alex._

_As perfect as this deal seemed, she was sure Oswald knew that too._

_And she was happy to go along with it..._

Alex was sleeping in late that morning because his leg had hurt on waking, so Zara let him sleep, and went off to the shower alone. She had called Ed the day before, asking him to come over to the house to help out with the book, and he had sent a message back saying he would stop by around nine thirty that morning. As she stepped out of the shower, she thought about Oswald, and hoped he wouldn't mind her asking questions about his son - if Chester Mooney was his son - there was always a chance they might have got this wrong, but it didn't seem likely...

She had just dried off from the shower and was about to reach for a towel to dry her hair when a hand slid around her waist, pulling her close as she looked into the mirror, seeing Oswald standing behind her. He pulled her naked body close as his hand settled low on her belly and she felt his breath soft against her ear as he spoke in a low voice:

“ _I'm so glad you enjoyed our encounter, my dear.”_

She looked into the mirror, meeting his intense gaze as his eyes seemed to glow an almost unearthly shade of pale blue.

“By the way,” Oswald added, “You now have your deepest desire. My child grows within you. That orgasm definitely helped, all those contractions, semen to cervix...”

“But I can't have children -”

“Shh,” he said, stroking a fingertip to her lips as he looked at her through the mirror, “Remember, this child is mine – but I had to use Alex to make it happen, I had to borrow his body, but the baby is most definitely mine. It's useful that Alex bears a passing resemblance to me... He doesn't have the Cobblepot genes, but it's a happy coincidence!”

She stared back at him in the mirror.

“I'm pregnant?”

“You will find out a few weeks from now,” he smiled as his eyes sparkled playfully, “There is _so_ much more to come, Zara. But I wont spoil the surprise!”

He laughed as he looked at her, and he kept on looking at her, as she wondered why she felt a vague sense of unease... Oswald had made her pregnant. No one on earth could have done that, she had been infertile, but now, she was having a baby. And he had used Alex to do that, this baby was as much her lover's as it was Oswald's...

“And your side of the bargain?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Oswald gave her a fond squeeze and then kissed her shoulder. He slowly raised his head as a sly smile came to his face.

“Don't worry about Alex, he won't be in pain for much longer! You've already sealed my part of the deal. Now I shall do likewise for you.”

Then he vanished abruptly, as her hand covered her shoulder where the feel of his kiss lingered. She wondered why she had a vague sense of unease about this – maybe it was because he was a ghost, she decided, of course she was aware he was dead, she had summoned him using a ritual, that had to explain why she felt uneasy...

But now she was pregnant. It was too soon to tell Alex, she wanted to wait until she had the test to confirm it, the last thing she could do was tell him Oswald had just told her about the baby. As much as he joked about them sleeping together, she was sure he wouldn't be thrilled to know a kid was on the way because Oswald had taken over his body to fuck her... But that baby was still his, as much as it was Oswald's, she was having a baby by Alex, and nothing could change that, she decided as she started to smile and her hand slid to her belly, where it rested as she thought about a future with her miracle baby, a future where Alex would no longer be in pain. And Oswald had said there was more to come. She couldn't wait to find out what that meant...

Alex was still resting upstairs when Ed arrived at the mansion. This time he didn't let himself in with his key, he knocked, and when she answered the door, Ed smiled and said how well she looked.

“Thank you!” she said brightly, still thinking about her secret.

She led him into the front room and they sat down and she placed coffee on the table.

“I was shocked when I heard about what happened in the Narrows,” Ed told her, “I'm so glad you're both okay.”

“We're fine,” she assured him.

Ed glanced about the room, and then looked at her intently.

“Where's Alex?”

“He's resting,” she replied, “He gets good and bad days with his leg, and today he needs some extra time in bed. He'll be fine when he gets up.”

“Oswald was often in pain, I don't know how he kept going,” Ed replied as he sat here lost in thoughts of the past, “I can understand how much pain Alex must go through – Oswald was the same, walking used to cause him far more pain than most people realised, but he never gave in to it.”

She felt warm in her heart as she spoke again.

”What was he like, as a person?” she asked, thinking about that baby she was carrying thanks to his ghost.

Ed paused for thought, smiling fondly.

“He could be evil when he wanted to be – he had to be, in those days, in those times, remember, he didn't get to rule the underworld by being a nice guy. He could be tough when he had to be, but personally, as I knew him, he was sweet, kind, shy, painfully shy -”

“ _Shy?”_

Ed blinked.

“You sound surprised! Oswald was a very shy person, an old fashioned gentleman and through his life, he was mostly alone. There was a relationship with Fish early on – that ended badly, they had made peace before she died, but even then, without the gang wars, if she had lived, they wouldn't have reconciled. He was her umbrella boy, she liked the look of him and being nice to Fish was part of the job... they got close, it went wrong, they fell out and she beat him half to death when he passed information to the cops about her. Later on they got back together, but he was reluctant. By then he knew he was attracted to men more than women and he didn't want a life with her....” he paused, “And then eventually, Oswald and I got together and we were happy - until the war, and then it all ended too soon.”

She had listened to all he had said, and as she thought about it, she wondered why she felt a little uneasy. Maybe she was just jumpy, perhaps she was worrying too much - but there was something about everything he had just told her that didn't sound like Oswald at all, not the ghostly Oswald that she knew...

“But I can't help but wonder, with all his wealth and power, he would have been a horny guy, right? He was rich and powerful, I imagine he probably enjoyed sleeping with a few women, he must have enjoyed the sex, as much as he enjoyed it with you? I bet everyone wanted to seduce him!”

Ed looked at her in surprise.

“That's an unexpected question,” he said, and then he smiled as he shook his head, “I guess you're really interested in the story of handsome Ozzie!”

“I am,” she agreed, smiling back at him.

Ed paused for thought.

“I'll put it this way,” he said, “Oswald was bisexual – but there are different degrees, understand that. For example, I was very much a ladies man back in the day – but Oswald was the only man I ever loved. With Oswald, it was quite different. He reluctantly entered a relationship with Fish and it ended swiftly. By then he was very captivated by Jim Gordon - who did not feel the same way, Jim is straight. And then we - Oswald and I, began on a long but worthwhile journey to each others arms. It was rare for Oswald to even look at a woman. He was rather fond of Barbara Kean, but it never went beyond friendship. He flirted a little with a woman named Ivy Pepper, too. I believe he kissed her once. But he was mainly, mostly, attracted to men. So no, Oswald was never inspired or got the urge to be passionate with the ladies. But Oswald and I had a wonderful relationship, I cherish the memories.”

She smiled for Ed's sake, as she felt confused, along with a sense of cold rising dread as she wondered why the man she had summoned from the mirror seemed so... heterosexual? Oswald's ghost had fucked her and enjoyed it, he had fucked her hard, he had toyed with her clit like an expert... and this sounded nothing like the man Ed had just described, who had little passion for the opposite sex in his lifetime... Maybe in death, he had discovered he could enjoy sex with women. Perhaps he had, over the years, been summoned many times and fucked many people, growing adventurous in many ways in the afterlife. That had to be the only explanation.

_She couldn't bear to think of the other option._

_Oh fuck, no!_

_The only other conclusion would mean the ghost who looked like Oswald, wasn't Oswald..._

Goosebumps had just raised up on her arm and she briefly ran her hand over her flesh to warm away the chill.

_She was overthinking._

_Of course he was the real Oswald..._

_She knew she had to keep reminding herself of that fact – because the alternative was too horrific to think about..._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ed seemed relaxed and more than happy to talk about anything today – maybe it was because she had switched off the tape. She was still thinking about Oswald as he had been in life – so different to the Oswald she had summoned from the mirror – but as she looked at Ed, she had many more questions. Now her biggest fear was that maybe Oswald was here, invisible, listening as she hoped nothing she said would make him angry. She had already seen what he was capable of...

“I noticed the murals all seem to be made by the same artist,” she said, “I found a name hidden on a mural in a shrine room in The Narrows...The word _Father_ was etched very cleverly into it, and beneath a layer of paint beside the image, I found the artist's name. Who is Chester Mooney? Could he be Oswald's son?”

Ed didn't need to confirm or deny. His expression said it all as he gave a heavy sigh and looked at her pleadingly.

“Yes he is, and I apologise for lying to you before, but Chester is entitled to a peaceful life. He doesn't want to be hit with a ton of attention for being the son of The Penguin.”

“I swear to you, I won't say a word about this!” she insisted, “I was just curious and I knew if I was right, there was no way this would be going into the book. He's an artist, he lives in Gotham?”

“Yes,” Ed replied, looking at her with honesty as he felt sure Zara could be trusted – he had known enough people over the years to know when a person was decent enough to be understanding and use discretion, and Zara was one of those people...

“So Oswald had a son with Fish Mooney. Did he take care of him after Fish died?”

“No, he was already out of the city, Gotham in those days was no place to raise a child, Ozzie was king of the underworld, Chester would have been an easy target for kidnappers. So he lived away from the city for a number of years. Then he grew up, became an artist and he does quite well, too – the Kean Gallery often exhibits his works. He married Bridgit Pike -”

“Firefly, Oswald's former enforcer,” Zara added, “I met her a few days back, her daughter was looking at the mural.”

Ed smiled fondly.

“Yes, Kara,” he said warmly, “She likes to look at the paintings of her Grandpa Oswald, and hear all the stories about him, how he helped to win the fight for this city in the old days.”

Zara smiled too.

“Do you see much of his family?”

“When I can,” Ed replied, “My own family keeps me very busy, but I try and make time.”

“How many kids do you have?” she asked him.

”Two boys,” Ed replied, “Grown up now, but my family can still be a lot of hard work – but I wouldn't have it any other way!”

“But you still miss him, I can see it in your eyes,” she replied, as in that moment, she wanted to reach out and hug him.

“I loved Oswald very much, I always will,” he replied fondly.

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“I'd just like to know, for the book – if you're okay with talking about it – could you tell me about his death? There are so many untrue tales out there of what might have happened, that Fish killed him, or she killed him and then put a curse on him – I even heard maybe he was killed by a former member of the Legion of Horribles. Now I know none of that is true, I'd like to tell the story of how he really died in wartime.”

Ed shook his head slowly.

“Oh, these false rumours just keep going around... Let me set the record straight on a few things: The Legion of Horribles was a terrorist organisation. Oswald was linked to them, briefly – they were made up of Jerome Velaska, the Mad Hatter, The Scarecrow, to name but a few... There was an attempt by the Legion to attack the city with fear gas, and it was Oswald who prevented it.”

She smiled as she thought of Oswald, and the child growing inside her.

“So he was a hero of this city even before the war.”

Ed smiled too as pride shone in his gaze.

”Ozzie was fine man, a brave man,” he said, “And as for Fish – if she had lived, if she had been around to see him after he was wounded by that grenade, it would have broken her heart...” his expression had faded to one of sorrow, “I was told not to leave him after the explosion, because he didn't have long... I was at his side and I kept hold of his hand, begging him to stay with me...He passed away peacefully, I was sitting on the bed with my arms around him.”

“Where is he buried?” she asked.

“Somewhere peaceful, he's somewhere that's just right,” was all Ed would say on the location, “We decided not to reveal more, partly because he had enemies and partly because of his notoriety.”

“You wanted him to be left in peace.”

“Absolutely.”

“You said, _we?_ ” she asked him.

”Others were involved in keeping Ozzie's final resting place secret,” he replied, “Just know that he's at peace now.”

She nodded, saying nothing about how she had encountered his ghost – and if that was his idea of peace, he had no clue that Oswald was certainly enjoying all the power he still possessed in the afterlife...

“I was wondering... could I meet Chester?”

“As long as you can assure me nothing about him or his family will go into the book.”

“You have my word.”

“Chester would probably say yes. Bridgit will need reassurance from me that you won't be splashing his parents names all over the book. I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” she replied, saying nothing about how she had noticed Bridgit's skin looked so flawless. He had said he would try and arrange a meeting, and that was a start. She could ask questions later, if she felt the time was right.

“Why didn't Chester move into this place?” she asked him.

“In this big house? Just the three of them?” Ed said in surprise, “Oh no, they have a family home closer to the city. Much smaller and more modern than this old place!”

She paused, glancing about the room, looking to the table and that chair that looked like a throne, where Oswald used to sit...

“Is this house haunted?”

Ed had just sipped his coffee. He set it down clumsily, as the liquid within almost spilled over as he laughed nervously.

“Who knows? It's an old house... But I don't know if ghosts truly exist, I keep an open mind, but that's about all!”

Ed stayed for a while longer, they talked about the history of the house, and then he finished his coffee and she walked him to the door. As they stood together on the porch, the day was bright and warm and birds sung in the nearby trees.

“I'm surprised Chester became an artist,” she said, “Wasn't he tempted to follow his father's old ways and get into the underworld?”

Ed smiled as he shook his head.

“No, not Chester,” he told her, “He's always been a little... different. A very gentle and creative soul, I guess that's why Bridgit fell in love with him. She's older than him, and very beautiful...I was glad when they got together. Then they had their daughter, and their life couldn't be happier.”

“And you're happy too?” she asked.

“Yes, very!” he assured her, “Often tired, always busy, but happy...”

His phone rang.

“And that's probably my wife -” he checked the number, “No, it's my eldest son!”

Then he took the call as they stood there together outside the mansion.

“Yes, son?” he said, and paused as he listened, then he chuckled.

“I'm over at the mansion, just about to leave. And no,” amusement danced in his gaze as he glanced at Zara, “I don't care how much you liked her book on urbex, the _writer chick_ wouldn't be interested in dinner with you, she has a boyfriend!”

His son spoke again, and Ed laughed.

“I'll be back soon,” he assured him, and then he ended the call, still amused as he looked to Zara.

“Sorry about that – my son loved your book about urban decay, and he also loved your author picture on the back cover! He said he wanted to you to sign his copy. I'm sure he does, but he's always looking for a date, too!”

“Well, the date is out of the question, but I'd be happy to sign the book for him.”

“That would be very kind,” Ed told her, “Thank you. I'll tell him to come over sometime – or I'll bring it with me next time I'm in the neighbourhood.”

He was about to leave, but she suddenly thought of something.

“Ed, I hope it's okay if I ask this, but there's so much stuff out there about how the Gotham underworld used to be – what's it like now?”

He paused for thought.

”Quiet,” he replied, “Well run, the various crime families all get along, these days they're a very tight knit community, very dedicated to the smooth running of the city.”

“And who are they?” she asked.

Ed smiled.

“Powerful people who keep a low profile,” he replied, “In these modern times, it's all about getting along. People still recall when I was deeply involved with the underworld – but that's ancient history now. I changed course after the war, after I lost Oswald. I'm a family man now.”

“Do you think I could possibly meet any of the modern underworld?” she said.

“You might,” he told her, “You could bump into one of them while you're out in the city, but you wouldn't know who they are. And I can't arrange a meeting for you, but I can definitely ask Bridgit and Chester how they feel about you coming over to meet them.”

“It would mean a lot,” she told him.

Ed looked at her fondly.

“You admire Oswald, I can tell. That's why I'm happy to to ask,” then he checked his watch, “I must go, I have a hundred things to do today. It's been a pleasure, I'll stop by again soon.”

Then Ed walked away and got in his car, and she went back inside and closed the door of the mansion.

Jim Gordon had seen Ed's car pull away, and he had slowed his speed, watching as the car headed in the opposite direction, giving enough time to put a good distance between him and Ed's departing vehicle before he approached the house. He was aware that Nygma was completely in favour of Zara and Alex staying at the mansion, he didn't doubt there would be something of a shit storm after they left, when Ed blamed him for their departure, and possibly putting the book plans in danger, too – but it wasn't as if he hadn't handled a furious Ed before, there had been many clashes, back in the day...

_And so much more was at stake than a book._

_He happened to think their safety should come first._

But all the same, as he parked in the driveway and glanced over at Oswald's former home, he felt reluctant to get out of the car, knowing what he was about to do would have a devastating effect on the plans of the couple who were staying there. It would change everything and he hated the fact that it had come to this – but he knew too much about the dark secrets that lurked in the Cobblepot mansion to sit back and do nothing about it...

After sleeping in late, Alex felt well enough to get up. He was dressed by now and had just put on his leg brace when Zara came into the room, and she saw him sitting here on the edge of the bed, if his leg was painful, it didn't show on his face as he smiled and his eyes shone with love. As she looked at him in his bleached jeans and a white t shirt, with a glow of happiness about his face as the sunlight fell in the room through the open window making his fair hair look like pale gold, she felt briefly guilty about Oswald's intervention in their lives... then she thought about the baby, news she could not yet share, as she remembered the joy that lie ahead. This was all worth it. She was sure she would never regret summoning Oswald...

“What did Ed say?” he asked.

“He said Chester is Oswald's son. And he's going to ask if I can meet him!”

As she said that, she went over to him and he got up stiffly and hugged her.

“That's great news! And how much can you disclose for the book?”

“Probably nothing about the family details, but I'll just be glad to have met him,” she replied, “The book will do well as it is, we don't need to use confidential information.”

As he drew back from her embrace, he looked into her eyes as his expression changed to one of concern.

“I hope this book is going to do well, Zara – like I said before, I'm having some cash flow problems. And I will find a way around it, I swear – but until then, we could have a tough time coming up in a few months...I'm down to my last twenty grand.”

She blinked. He looked back at her, his gaze full of apology.

“But you have investments! You said -”

“ _And I need to explain something to you about that.”_

“I'm listening.”

There was a knock at the door. It echoed up the stairs.

“I'd better see who that is,” she said as she turned away.

“Zara, wait, I need to talk to you!”

She glanced back at him. Alex looked very worried all of a sudden, and she felt sure he was overthinking this. He had investments, this thing about being down to his last twenty grand had to be his estimate, over estimated in a worried moment as he thought about the worst case scenario...

“It can't be that bad,” she said, “We'll talk about this later.”

There was another knock at the door.

“I need to get that,” she reminded him, and then she hurried out the door and down the hallway, heading for the stairs as Alex gave a sigh, feeling deep despair as he thought about the future and a confession he would eventually have to make to Zara about the money, where it had come from, and so much more that he feared she would not understand...

_Every day his worries got worse._

Today he had decided to tell her everything, and he had come so close – and now she had gone off to answer the door he was losing his nerve, knowing what he had to say, knowing those words could destroy the only good thing that had ever happened in his life – he could lose Zara. His leg was throbbing. The pills were yet to kick in. He sat down heavily on the bed, putting his head in his hands, feeling sick with worry.

As she opened the door, Zara's first thought was maybe Ed had forgotten something. She wasn't expecting to see Jim Gordon standing there on the doorstep.

”Zara, I need to speak with you,” he glanced past her, seeing no sign of Alex, “Alone,” he added, “This is important.”

She stepped back and he came in and she closed the door again.

“I'm sure there's nothing you can't say in front of Alex,” she said, but Jim shook his head.

“This is a serious matter,” he replied.

She glanced at him doubtfully, the looked to the stairs, seeing no sign of Alex.

“Jim's here,” she called up.

“Okay, I'll be down soon,” she heard him say from the bedroom.

Then she led Jim down the hallway and into the kitchen, where she offered him coffee.

“No thanks, this won't take long,” he replied.

She turned from the kitchen counter and looked at him.

“And again, I'll say there's nothing you need to tell me alone, Jim. Me and Alex have no secrets.”

He felt a flicker of regret as he drew paperwork from his pocket and opened it up and handed it to her.

”I'm sorry, Zara,” he said, “But I checked up on your boyfriend – I had a hunch about him, and I was right. His name is Alex Royce, but he's not the son of a shipping tycoon. The guy who owns the company doesn't have a son. He has two daughters. Alex is not who you think he is, as you can see from the police report, he's got a long criminal history, starting with theft and burglary, leading up to a bank robbery involving firearms nine years back. He got fifteen years in jail, reduced on appeal to nine, served seven and got out last year. The money from the robbery was never recovered, there were six people in on the job and only four were captured and he didn't talk or make any deals - so if he's been throwing cash around, I'm willing to bet it's his cut from the job. These are police records, you can verify it all by a search online, the case made the news... and by the way, he didn't shatter his leg on a race track. He did it when he rolled his car after a high speed chase, an attempt at fleeing arrest. _He's not the son of a billionaire. He's an ex con._ ”

She had heard all Jim had said and her eyes had blurred with tears as she looked again at the paperwork in her hands:

_It was all true. Alex had lied from the day they first met..._

“I'm sorry,” Jim said, “But I got the feeling if he was lying, you didn't know about it. I deal with men like Alex every day, I had my suspicions when I met him. As soon as I knew I was right, I felt it was my duty to tell you.”

She blinked away tears.

!And now you can get out,” she said as emotion choked her voice.

“I'm truly sorry,” he said as he turned away,

“ _Get out!”_ she yelled.

Jim made for the door, not looking back, hating himself for what he had just done. Obviously Alex had lied to her, but it didn't mean he never intended to break it to her eventually... maybe he had turned his back on crime, too. He always tried to be fair, and this wasn't fair. But if it got them out of the house, if they left town, at least they would be safe... All the same, Jim still felt the weight of his guilt as he drove away from the mansion.

“ _What was all the yelling about?”_

As he asked that question, Alex limped to the bottom of the stairs and then turned and stared at the sight of Zara, standing there in tears as she glared at him.

“What happened? What did Jim say to you?”

She thrust the papers into his hand. He looked down at them, and then tears filled his eyes as for a moment, he felt no pain in his leg, only a numb sensation of pure shock as his own past was shoved in his face, a past he wanted to forget, a past he had planned to tell her about eventually....

“ _You lied to me!”_ she said accusingly as emotion choked her voice.

The papers slipped from his hand as he looked at her pleadingly.

“I was going to tell you -”

“ _YOU HAD MONTHS TO TELL ME!”_

He blinked as tears ran down his face. She was glaring at him like she hated him, and his heart was breaking for every bad decision he had ever made.

“You said, it wasn't about the money! You said it right for the start, when you thought I was the son of a shipping tycoon, you never cared about that!”

“You lied to me right from the start, Alex! Did you think you could just bury your past and use stolen money to feed me bullshit forever?”

“ _No! And I knew the cash was running out and I wanted to tell you sooner but I was scared, I thought I'd lose you!”_

He was tearful and desperate as he looked at her, silently begging for forgiveness. She slowly shook her head.

“You lied about _everything_ – there was no accident on the race track, you rolled the car running from the cops! Jim Gordon knows an ex con when he sees one, he said he had a feeling about you! I must be so stupid, I fell for everything you told me!”

“Please, listen to me, I lied when we met because I fell in love with you and I thought I wasn't good enough for you! I thought you deserved better than a guy like me, so I lied about my past. Just let me explain -”

He reached for her and she pushed his hand away sharply.

“ _Don't touch me!”_

“ _I'm not that person any more!”_ he said tearfully, _“I changed, I did a lot of time in jail and I decided I'd be different when I got out!”_

“But you still lived off the stolen cash?”

“How was I supposed to start my life again with _nothing_ , Zara?”

She turned away. He caught her arm and pulled her back towards him.

“ _Just listen to me, please! I love you, I'd do anything for you! I got us this place so you could write the book, I just want to make you happy!”_

“ _Fuck off!”_ she yelled, giving him a shove.

His damaged leg turned in as he gave a cry of pain, falling hard to the floor as he gave a sob.

“Oh shit, I didn't mean to hurt you...” she reached for him, helping him up as he openly wept.

“ _Please forgive me!”_ Alex begged.

“I'm sorry you fell,” she said tearfully, “And I do love you...” she placed her hand on his cheek, brushing away a tear as she felt her heart ache, “But you lied to me, Alex. You lied about everything. I don't think we can come back from this.”

His eyes went wide with fear as he realised what she meant.

“ _No, no, please don't leave me, you don't know how much I love you!”_

“I'm sorry,” she said as more tears choked her voice, and then she turned away, heading for the door as she snatched up her car keys on the way.

Alex watched, feeling powerless as she left the house and closed the front door behind her. He limped quickly towards it and opened it sharply, still tearful as he saw her get into the car. He wanted to run over to her and beg her to come back, but running wasn't an option and his leg was throbbing from the fall.

“ _Zara!”_ he yelled.

She started up the engine and the car drove off at speed, heading for the open gates, as all Alex could do was watch as she drove away.

Suddenly she was gone and he was alone, and as he turned back from the open door, he saw the police paperwork on the floor where he had dropped it, and he gave a sob. His leg was hurting, the pain was sharp, as sharp as those papers were a reminder of the past, a past that would cost him everything because he had hidden the truth from Zara... He held on to the rail as he made his way up the stairs, his plan was to take another pill to ease the pain, then he would sit down, calm the fuck down, and call her. He would tell her everything, he would leave a message if she didn't answer, because he knew she would check her phone eventually.

He went into the bathroom and filled a glass with water, then he took his pills from the bathroom cabinet and limped heavily into the bedroom and sat down on the bed, placing the bottle and the glass on the night stand. The breeze that came in through the window felt cold despite the fact that it was summer. He looked about the bedroom, missing Zara sharply. His eyes ached from crying, his leg was throbbing. He took off his leg brace and sat on the bed, with his phone beside him. He would take his pill, wait for it to work, then he would be out of pain and by then, calmed down enough to call her and try and apologise without crying all over again.

“ _I'm so sorry, Zara,”_ he said quietly, pausing to stretch out his aching leg as he thought about every mistake he had ever made in his entire life... it had all led to this. Soon the money would be gone, and maybe, Zara wasn't coming back. Maybe he had already lost her. She had walked away like she never wanted to come back. Like she hated him...He stifled another sob as he looked to the bottle of pills next to the bed.

 _Maybe I should just take them all,_ ran through his mind, _I've lost everything, there's nothing left for me now..._

And the bottle fell sharply on its side as the cap popped off and the pills spilled out on to the night stand, every single pill in that bottle had rattled out as if tipped by an invisible hand... he stared at the pills.

He wondered, had he just knocked the bottle over? He was sure he hadn't touched it. He was also sure the cap had been on tightly... but it had just popped off as if he had left it open. He shook his head, deciding he could only blame himself for the confusion because he was so upset... He briefly closed his eyes as he rested on the bed, deciding maybe he didn't need that pill. Maybe rest would help, sometimes that was enough. He gave a sigh as he closed his eyes. His phone was in his hand. He would calm down, then he would call Zara...

_He didn't see the shadow that loomed closer._

_Then it covered him._

As Alex opened his eyes slowly, he was aware that his whole body felt heavy. He felt... wrong. _Everything_ felt wrong, he was dizzy, he felt drowsy... He turned his head to see the water was gone from the glass. The pill bottle was on its side with the cap off.

_The pills were gone._

_Every last one had gone._

_And he could taste the overdose in his mouth._

Fear gripped him as he looked down at his phone.

It wasn't in his hand. It was close by, but he was too sedated to reach for it. He tried to move his hand, it shifted a fraction, but he couldn't reach it.

His thoughts began to race:

_I didn't take those pills!_

_How the fuck did I OD?_

_I did not do this to myself!_

“Zara...” he whispered as his hand trembled and he tried to reach for the phone again, but this time, he couldn't move. His eyes were closing, he was being pulled down somewhere dark and deep, and if this was what death felt like he didn't want to go, but something was dragging him down, deep into a place that was beyond sleep...

The hurt remained but her anger was cooling as Zara drove through the city, she wanted to go back to the murals, maybe even find more that were listed on the map – but not alone, not after what had happened before... She took the car down to the river, got out and stood alone, watching the water flowing as it reflected the sunlit skies above. As she stood there, she was thinking about Alex and all the reasons he had hidden the truth.

_Would she have ever got close to him if she knew about his past?_

_She didn't know the answer to that._

But she had welcomed him into her life and her heart and fallen for him. She _still_ loved him. She didn't doubt his love for her, and she now knew why he had worried so deeply about his cash problems, knowing sooner or later, he would have to admit the truth. He had been ready to do that just before Jim Gordon had called at the house, she was sure of it. She had seen real fear in his eyes as Alex had tried to tell her the truth – and as she thought about all the time they had spent together, all she could recall was how he had wanted to do everything for her, to help her, to make her happy, and he was always saying he wasn't good enough. Now she knew why. Maybe he couldn't forgive his own past no matter what the future held, maybe, he really had changed, he had spent years in jail and perhaps he was determined to turn his life around. And he couldn't do that without money behind him. She got that part, he was in a hard situation, because he had probably wanted to tell her the truth from the start, but was too afraid of losing her.

_He should have told her sooner._

_But she didn't doubt his love was real._

_And that was all that mattered, the rest could be mended..._

She stayed by the river as she paused to look at her phone. There were no missed calls or messages from Alex.

She called his number and got no reply.

“Alex, I love you, it's going to be okay,” she said, and her message went to voicemail.

Then she paused to look through her recent pictures, her and Alex in the car, then another shot of them as they were about to cross the Gotham bridge and enter the city. There was another pic, the two of them together on a city street, and those had been in happy times before they had quarrelled, but she was sure they could be happy again... and then she looked closer at the picture, then back to the others as she felt a chill prickle at her flesh:

 _There it was again._ Vague outlines of small circles, and they were in every picture she had taken since they had approached the bridge that led into Gotham City... In one shot, it was behind her in the back of the car, in another, it was barely visible, but over her shoulder as she smiled with Alex...

“What the hell _is_ that?” she whispered, enlarging an image, but making out no more than some kind of weird arc of low light... and it didn't make sense, not in any of the shots. It was the same as she had seen in shadow by the shrine, and hidden in the picture she took at the park, too:

_Circles._

_What the hell did it mean?_

She went further back, to the days before they took the trip to the city. As she ran through more pictures, a cold, creeping sense of dread washed over her:

 _Circles, again._ _Sometimes one, sometimes two, always obscured in shadow or hidden in the background..._ and they had started weeks ago. The first one was visible reflected off a glass cabinet in her front room, a circle and another beside it, partly obscured, in a shot of her taken by Alex as she sat on her favourite chair with her laptop open, smiling up at him.

That had been the day she had found the story of the urban myth. She had read an article and then found another and another and then decided, this had to go into the next book... That was the day they decided, they would go to Gotham City, and Alex had suggested trying to gain access to the mansion, if it was possible..

_The day they made their plans, the day she had first clicked on a link and read about Oswald's ghost... that was the day those circles had appeared._

She went back further, and there were no strange circles in any of the other pics...

_It had started the first day she read about the legend online?_

She drew in a shaken breath, her mind a swirl of panic. All she knew for sure was something was very wrong somewhere, and she had to get back to the house, she had to show this to Alex, because whatever was following her had been there since before she left for the city, stalking her, always in the shadows – and whatever lurked there, clearly wasn't Oswald, it seemed there was more than one unearthly force at work at the mansion, and it certainly wasn't anything good...

As she drove back towards the house, her panic was rising. She didn't know if Oswald knew about the thing that was lurking in her pictures, but she needed to ask him because if he wasn't the only spirit in the house, surely, he would know it was there?

_Or maybe he didn't know._

_Maybe it hid from him, too..._

She felt sick with worry as the car came to a sharp stop on the driveway outside the mansion. Zara got out and ran towards the entrance. The door was wide open. She called to Alex as her own voice echoed back at her, then she hurried to the front room, but he wasn't there. She dashed down the hallway, finding the lower floor empty. She called his name as she looked outside, but the garden was deserted. Her heart was racing now as she ran back towards the door, then down the hallway, seeing the police documents on the floor where Alex had dropped them.

“ _Alex!”_ she yelled as she ran up the stairs, that feeling was rising now, something was wrong and she felt it more and more as she reached the top, calling his name again as no reply came back.

As she collided with a dark suit and a coat edged with feathers, she staggered back, standing breathless in the upper hall, her face pale as she met the gaze of Oswald Cobblepot.

“ _Get out of my way!”_

Zara stepped forward. His hand slammed against the wall, barring her way.

“Let me pass!” she demanded.

Oswald regarded her with a look up and down her body, then met her eyes as a smile flickered about his lips.

“There's no need to rush, Zara. You've spent a fine morning, in the company of Ed Nygma, taking about me, about _my_ family! Tell me, have you learned enough? Because _none_ of that is relevant to you!”

His voice was icy now, as icy as the coldness in his gaze as he looked accusingly at her.

“Ed wants to tell your story – the real story! Nothing about Chester will go into the book, I swear!”

She could feel a menacing anger rising from him as he stood there, his hand against the wall, his arm barring the way. She already knew what he was capable of, and in that moment, as he glared at her, all she wanted was for him to understand she had good intent, and to let her pass, because Alex wouldn't have gone out and left the front door wide open...

“I need to find Alex, please, just let me find him.”

“I'm sure he's okay.”

Oswald forced a tight smile, but his hand stayed firmly in place, barring her way.

As she looked at him, she felt a sudden flash of panic.

“Where is he, Oswald?”

“He's fine, he...decided on a short rest, it's best not to disturb him.”

“ _I need to see him!”_ she stepped closer, as he looked hard at her.

“There's no rush. Give it a few more minutes.”

Her eyes went wide as she stared at him, unable to read his expression as in that moment, the coldness in his gaze sparkled as he started to smile.

“What have you done?”she demanded.

“I gave him what he needs, Zara. I granted your wish for him. He's not in pain any more.”

She felt confused as she looked back at him.

“Why isn't he answering me?”

“He's sleeping. Or, he was, last time I checked on him... I just passed by the room and I sensed he was resting, so I didn't go in. I tried to send him some heading for his leg but I'm not sure it reached him. I don't know why.”

As her expression changed to one of horror, he looked back at her in dismay.

”What are you looking at me like _that_ for? I would never harm him, Zara!”

She didn't know what to think as she looked back at Oswald.

“ _Get out of my way!”_ she yelled, and he took his hand off the wall and stepped back, turning to see her run for the bedroom. He heard her scream _Alex_ , and then she she started to cry. He walked slowly to the doorway and stood there, looking on as she turned her boyfriend on his side and he gave a weak cough as fluid ran from the corner of his mouth. She looked to the empty pill bottle. Then she shook him and he coughed again.

“ _No, no, why did you do this, Alex!”_ she yelled as tears ran down her face, _“Wake up!”_

“I swear this was not my work!” Oswald said, looking on as she dragged Alex to the edge of the bed, shoved two fingers down his throat and then he coughed weakly, then harder, gagging and choking as pills and vomit spewed out and hit the carpet.

“This would explain why I sensed he wasn't in pain...”

“Shut up, _you_ did this!” she said angrily as she knelt beside Alex, not caring she was covered in vomit and part digested pills.

“Alex... stay with me!”

His eyes stayed closed. His breathing slowed.

“ _I did not do this!”_ Oswald insisted.

“Then who did?” she said, her gaze still on Alex as she swept a hand over his hair and then gave his shoulder a shake, “Come on, Alex...please, wake up!”

Oswald stood there, saying nothing as she tried to revive him.

“ _Alex?”_ Zara sobbed, placing a hand on his chest, then feeling for a pulse. She wasn't medically trained, but she knew he was fading away. She reached for her phone, getting up from the floor as she began to call 911.

“I believe you may be too late,” Oswald informed her, “Oh well, at least he's not in pain any more!”

She turned to him sharply.

“He's _dying_ , Oswald!”

“That would explain the deep sorrow I felt after _you_ left the house. I believe he took his own life.”

“There's still time.”

“I think not,” Oswald said, limping closer to her, “Life can be cruel sometimes, my dear.”

She looked back down at the phone, her vision blurred with tears.

“ _You did this!”_

“ _I did not!”_ he insisted as he leaned in, glaring at her, and then he abruptly vanished.

She raised the phone, shaking and tearful as she called for help.

And Alex gave a gasp and hung over the bed, coughing as more pills came up. He was breathing hard, his skin had lost its pallor and as he puked again, she cut off the call and the phone slipped from her hand as she fell to her knees on the carpet, rubbing his back as he coughed and gagged again.

“Alex?”

“I'm sorry,” he gasped, and then he was weakly sitting up, and as she tried to stop him, he shook his head.

“No, I'll be okay, I need to get cleaned up.”

“You need an ambulance!”

“No, feel okay now. I'm so sorry, I was stupid, I never should have done it!”

Her arm was around him as she helped him to the bathroom, he staggered over to the sink and turned on the water and splashed his face, then he washed the taste of pills and vomit from his mouth and clung to the sink as he breathed hard.

“I was upset after you left. I don't remember doing it but I know I did a stupid thing. I'm _so_ sorry!”

He turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he looked at her pleadingly.

“Forgive me, I'll never be so dumb again! I know I could have died and I knew it was a mistake as soon as I started to pass out! Thank god you got here in time...I'm so sorry!”

She blinked away tears as she stood there, then she reached out and put her arms around him.

“The past doesn't matter. All that matters, is you're alive. I'm sorry too, I love you!”

“ _I love you too, I love you so much, Zara!”_ he said as his voice choked with tears, then he pulled her closer and her hugged tightly.

As she held on to him, she felt thankful she had got back in time to save him – all she wanted to do now was hold him, and then, if she couldn't persuade him to go to the hospital just to be sure he was okay, she would take him to bed, where he could rest and she could watch over him to be sure he really was going to be okay. She also knew, once she was sure Alex was unharmed, she would need to speak to Oswald:

_Yes, he was capable of many things, but killing Alex?_

_She had been wrong to accuse him, Alex had just admitted taking those pills..._

“I'm sorry,” Alex whispered again as he held her.

”I'm sorry too.” she told him softly, and that apology for their fight was also silently extended to Oswald as she hoped he could hear her, and hoped he understood why she had accused him of trying to kill Alex - clearly, her ghostly lover was innocent... But it wasn't just about the worry that she might have offended him or hurt his feelings. She wanted to avoid the possibility of an enraged Oswald, she knew what he was capable of and at this moment, that was something she really didn't want to think about...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_The phone was ringing_. Zara let it ring, it had been a tough day and a worrying night for her as she had watched over Alex, afraid for him as she wondered if the overdose had caused lasting problems. He insisted he was okay, but he was understandably wrecked from what he had been through, exhausted too, and all he had wanted to do was rest. She held him tightly as he slept that night, her head on his chest as she listened to the sound of his heartbeat, heard his breathing slow and steady, and somewhere between early morning and sunrise she fell asleep, only to wake with a jolt as she jerked her head from the pillow, looking anxiously at him, as relief flooded through her to see him breathe a sigh and then open his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said softly, and as he reached for her, he started to smile.

“I'm okay, everything is fine,” he whispered, and as he kissed her, she knew nothing else mattered – his past was gone, the future was theirs. It didn't matter that he had kept secrets, he had apologised so many times for that, and she knew that he loved her. And knowing he was okay felt like the best gift life could give her...

He kissed her deeply as she held him, then as he looked into her eyes he thrust hard into her, making her gasp as he looked down at her, his cock solid all the way inside, then he drew it out and thrust in again. He made love with such lust and roughness as he fucked her hard that it made the events of the day before seem like a fading nightmare. He pinned her down, he grabbed her hands, raising them above her head as he breathed hard and fast, his face flushed and sweat running from his body as they moved together. Then he wrapped his arms around her and covered her mouth with a kiss, his hand slid between her legs and into wet heat as he toyed with her, bringing her to a fast climax. He watched her intently as she gasped and he pushed his fingers inside as her walls contracted, then as he withdrew from her body, he put his fingers to his mouth, sucking on the taste of her orgasm before thrusting deep again, and every movement made her gasp as he finally came hard, quickly, and with a sharp cry.

As they lay together breathing hard, it was the only sound that filled the room. His heart was pounding, love reflected in his gaze as he turned on his side and kissed her again.

”That was a wild ride!” he chuckled.

She was still recovering as she turned her head and frowned.

“So I'm a ride now?” she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. Alex looked well, he had recovered. But at that moment, when he had said that, it just didn't feel right...

“What do you want me to say?” he asked as his hazel eyes widened, “You know I love you!”

She thought about the terrible day before as again, relief flooded through her. After what they had just shared, Alex was certainly going to be okay.

“Maybe we said enough _I love yous_ yesterday!” she told him as she started to smile, then she ran her hand over his chest as she met his gaze, feeling completely satisfied. He had never made love to her with such passion before, mainly because of his leg.

“Does your leg hurt?” she asked.

He sat up and paused to stretch slowly, and then he turned back to her, leaning in close as playfulness danced in his eyes

“I don't care about that!”

Worry reflected in her eyes as she ran her fingers through his fair hair.

“You're going to be in pain, your pills -”

He paused for thought.

“Pain is a good thing, Zara! It reminds me I'm alive!”

He started to smile as he pressed his body closer to hers.

“There's nothing better than being alive!” he said, and then he leaned in closer, looking intently at her.

“I'm going to hit the shower now, but before I go... _Love you_...” he kissed her cheek, “Love you!” he said again, and kissed her lips, then he drew back again, “Blah, blah blah... _all_ the romantic gestures out of the way! And did I forget to say, I _love_ you!” he kissed her again, then got up too energetically, as he gave a hiss of pain, briefly clamping a hand to his damaged leg.

“Oh, that hurts... but I've known worse!”

Then he limped off towards the bathroom as she sat up in bed, smiling as she shook her head: He certainly seemed a little... _different_ today. But after yesterday, after all they had been through, if he was celebrating the fact that the truth was out in the open, and he was glad to be alive and happy that they were still together, he could be a little crazy if he felt like it, she decided, at least she knew he was okay...

While Alex was in the shower, Zara got out of bed and stood before the bedroom mirror, placing her hand on its surface as she thought of Oswald and how he had vanished so sharply. Maybe it wouldn't work, maybe it was only the mirror downstairs that could call to him... but it was worth a shot. She placed her fingertips on the glass, keeping her voice low while the bathroom door was closed.

“ _I'm sorry, I know I was wrong. I never should have accused you...”_

Suddenly the mirror didn't reflect any more, instead, Oswald appeared and shifted closer to her as she reached for him, but he made no attempt to reach for her.

“I'm sorry,” she said again.

“All is forgiven,” he said in reply, and then as his arms wrapped around her from behind she closed her eyes, giving a sigh as he held her close. She felt a kiss on her shoulder and looked to the mirror, catching her breath as she saw no reflection of Oswald. Now Alex was standing behind her, naked with his hair dripping wet from the shower. He slowly raised his head and met her gaze, smiling as he looked at her.

“What are you doing?” he said softly.

She looked back at the mirror, past their reflection, seeing no trace of her ghostly lover.

“Thinking how tired I look,” she replied, and then she turned to him and slid her arms around him as she spoke again.

“About what Jim said -”

“We don't need to talk about that now,” Alex said, “The past is gone. We have the future to think about.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed with a smile, and then she hugged him before letting go.

“I was thinking about breakfast...” she added.

Alex limped over to the bed, sat down and then raised his damaged leg with caution, before resting against the pillows. He got comfortable and then relaxed with his hand between his legs, looking down at his cock as he gave it a stroke.

“I really don't give a shit about the scars... I like my body.”

“I'm glad to hear it... but, _breakfast?_ ” she reminded him.

“I'll have whatever you're having, honey. But take your shower first, I can wait.”

He reached for the remote and turned on the TV.

She stood there looking at him in confusion, Alex never watched TV first thing in the morning. He was always out of bed and never without saying _fuck_ as the pain hit, but today, he had laughed off his discomfort. And now, he wasn't even up and cooking breakfast. And he loved to cook, but clearly, not today. But he had been through hell. She guessed he was still tired, even if he didn't want to show it. All this energy and enthusiasm and the way he was so different today could easily be explained. He had almost died yesterday. He was probably still exhausted and trying to hide it, because he had done enough apologising and he didn't want her to worry. If he wanted to stay in bed all day, she was fine with that. She just wanted to be sure he was recovered.

Oswald was still on her mind after she got dressed and then cooked breakfast. She took it upstairs, but when she placed the tray next to the bed, Alex turned over and blinked away sleep.

“I'm tired,” he said, “I don't want to eat yet. I still ache from all that puking. I can't believe was so stupid!”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, by now it was ten thirty and if he didn't get up until gone noon, she would be relieved that he was still resting. She wanted him to take a week if he needed it, but then Alex sat up and got comfortable and reached for her hand.

“I know what you're thinking, maybe I've done this before, maybe I'm unstable, or crazy -”

“No!” she said firmly, “I know you, Alex! Yesterday was a shock, Jim never should have come over and told me those things... but he's a cop, I guess he thought it was for the best if I knew.”

Alex gave a sigh, her hand was still in his grip as their eyes met.

“It was just a bad day – a terrible day, I lost it,” he admitted, “I thought I'd lost you, and I can't do that, Zara. You're everything to me.”

“You won't lose me,” she vowed, and then she leaned in and they shared a kiss.

“Want to come back to bed?” he asked.

She smiled.

”I could hold you all day long.”

He laughed as he shook his head.

“I was thinking more along the lines of, we could spend all day in bed fucking!”

“ _Why_ are you so horny today?”

“I guess I'm just glad to be alive.”

Then the phone rang again. She heard it from the other side of the room, but ignored it as she and Alex sat there, looking at each other as she silently felt thankful he was okay, and they were still together and could move on from this. In time, she would ask him about his past, just so everything was laid down and discussed and then, they could close the door on it forever. But not yet, not today, right now all they needed was togetherness.

“Are you going to answer that?” Alex asked her.

“If it's Jim Gordon I'm not sure if I can be civil after what he did.”

“Maybe it's not Jim.”

“I just want to spend the day with you!”

“And I told you, I'm okay.”

He gt up, limped over to the night stand and picked up her phone.

“Alex, no, leave it!”

“It's Ed!” he announced, and before she could say another world, he answered the call.

”Hi Mr Nygma... yes... She's right here -”

He handed her the phone as she looked at him reluctantly and he smiled back.

“I told you, I'm okay!” he reminded her.

“Hi Ed,” Zara said as she shot Alex a look of disapproval that made him laugh, then he turned away, still naked as he stood by the mirror, leaning closer to it, looking at his face, then he looked down as he fondled his cock and smiled.

“Zara,” said Ed, “I spoke to Chester. He and Bridgit said you could come over this morning, would you like to do that? He would like to talk to you about his late father – as long as he's not named in the book, you could have it as a quote from someone anonymous who wanted to contribute?”

“I would love to do that, thank you!”

“I'll be with you soon.”

Alex had just turned from the mirror as Zara glanced at him.

“Ed said Chester's agreed to meet. He wants me to go over there.”

“I'll be fine on my own,” Alex assured her.

Worry reflected in her gaze. He limped closer and kissed her cheek.

“Really, I'm okay now!”

He snatched the phone from her hand.

“Thanks, Ed – Zara will be ready soon, just come over!”

He ended the call and handed the phone back to her.

“Why did you do that?” Zara exclaimed.

“Just go and meet the guy,” he said, “I'll be fine – unless you don't trust me.”

He had said that with a hint of accusation, and she looked at him in despair, knowing it would be a long time before the nightmare of finding him half dead began to fade from her memory.

”I do, but I worry, how can I not after yesterday?”

He stood there looking intently at her, still drying off from the shower as water droplets hit his shoulder from his wet hair.

“We talked about it, we put this behind us. You have to start trusting me again, Zara!”

She nodded.

“I know that.”

“Then go and meet Chester. And while you're gone, give me something to do, I want to help with the book.”

“Okay...” she went over to the bed and opened up her laptop, accessing her photos.

“Remember those weird circles I told you about, the ones I saw in the shrine picture? They're in every photo I've taken since the day we decided to come to Gotham.”

Alex was busy getting dressed.

“Probably dust on the lens.”

“No, its not...” she was transferring copies of the pictures from her phone to the lap top now. He sat down on the bed to put on his leg brace and glanced over at the screen.

“I'm not likely to spot anything on that laptop, Zara. You said it's a basic device, you need a better screen.”

“Alex, I'm not just talking about the pictures on the camera, I mean, the pictures on my phone! Pictures back home before we even left!”

Alex finished getting dressed, then he sat on the bed, cautiously stretching out his aching leg, and then he took the lap top and started to run through the images.

“All I'm seeing is us...”

“ _There!”_

She pointed to a circle with another beside it, a vague shape caught on the glass cabinet back home in their front room.

“You took that picture of me the day I first found the article online about the Gotham legend. It's in every other picture, every photo of me that's been taken since. And it's also in every image I've photographed here in the city. Like something -”

Alex had started to chuckle.

“Like something is following you?”

She felt a chill run down her spine.

”Maybe?”

“Okay, but I doubt it! I'll check these pictures while you're out. And I'll text you so you know I'm okay.”

A car had just pulled up in the driveway and sounded its horn.

“Eds here, see you later on,” she said, and then she leaned in, sharing a kiss with him that lingered.

“I'm fine!” he reminded her.

”You'd better be!” she replied, and then she left the room and went downstairs as Ed sounded the car horn again.

The day was warm and bright, the air was scented with roses from the garden as she left the house in a light summer dress. Ed smiled as she joined him and got into the car.

“Thank you so much for this, I so want to meet Chester!”

He started up the car and they headed for the open gates.

“It was no trouble at all,” he replied, “And speaking of trouble, Jim called me – said he turned up something on your boyfriend, he also said he told you about it. I do hope everything is okay, Jim's a good man but -”

“Over zealous when protecting the city history, I know,”she replied, “He happened to turn up some stuff on the past that Alex was yet to talk to me about and it caused a lot of upset. But we're okay now.”

As they drove towards the highway, Ed glanced at her, then looked back to the road.

“I must confess, he did share the details with me – most likely, because I was the one who authorised the two of you to stay at the mansion.”

“You know what it was about?” she asked cautiously.

Ed looked at her kindly.

”Zara, in my younger years, I was incarcerated for many crimes in this city, I was put in Arkham, too. And I can safely say I do not judge others for their past mistakes. Alex Royce is an ex con. So am I. Therefore, I do not judge.”

He smiled, then he looked back to the road as the journey continued.

They drove on through the city, then out towards the suburbs, as the view changed from busy streets and tall buildings to a quiet neighbourhood where trees lined avenues and shaded smart houses with well tended gardens.

“Kara's at school,” Ed said as the turned a corner and drove along another street, “Bridgit and Chester are home. Before you meet them I should mention something about Chester. You may not have met anyone quite like him before. He was born with very noticeable differences, physical abnormalities – but i's never held him back.”

“How did Oswald react when he found out?” she wondered as they carried on driving up the quiet, tree lined road.

Ed thought back.

“I think there was a _moment_ when the news first sank in... he and Fish were both upset. But then that moment passed and they both decided to do whatever they could for him, they adored their son. It was no one's fault, just one of those things, he was different. He was raised away from the city as I said before – to keep him safe. But Oswald saw him when ever he could.”

“He was a good father.”

“The best,” Ed agreed.

He parked the car outside a house where trees stood tall in the wide garden, part shading the property. The garden was filled with shrubs and roses. They got out of the car, Ed opened the gate and she followed him up a path past a small fountain where water spouted from the mouth of a stone fish, on the other side of the path bees buzzed about lazily, drunk on the nectar from a large lavender bush in the nearby herb garden.

The front door opened before they reached it, and there stood Bridgit in a short, floral patterned dress, and her skin looked glowing and perfect...

“It's so nice to see you again!” she said brightly as she looked to Zara, “Come in, Chester's out the back.”

She led them through a hallway with pale walls, past a front room with comfortable sofas and a huge TV, and then out to the garden.

“I just made some lemonade for Kara when she comes home from school, but there's plenty to go around,” Bridgit added.

“Thanks,” said Zara.

“You know I love your lemonade!” Ed added, then he sat down at a table on the patio as she went back inside.

“ _You must be the lady writing the book about my father!”_ said a warm, gruff voice.

“Yes, I'm Zara Fox,” she said, smiling as he smiled back and waddled down the pathway to meet her:

This was Chester? He was short and round, he wore a finely tailored suit and his dark hair hung in dark waves that fell to his shoulders. His face was pale as chalk, his nose long and pointed, his eyes small and dark but they twinkled as he smiled. He led out a hand, and she shook it. It was the first time she had ever shook hands with a man like Chester - a man whose hands were long and tapered, like flippers. But his handshake was gentle and warm and he smiled broadly as he spoke again.

“I hear you saw my murals. Don't worry about the paint you chipped off. I've been back to cover it up again, I always hide a signature somewhere – but never where it can be seen.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Zara told him, “I was curious, I saw _father_ painted into the mural and I wanted to know who the artist was.”

“And now you have found him,” he said, smiling again, “shall we sit down?”

They joined Ed at the table beneath the shade of a wide parasol that took off the heat of the day. Bridgit joined them and set down a tray of iced lemonade, and for the next hour, Chester talked fondly of his father and then of his decision to paint murals in his honour.

“I did not want him to be forgotten after the war,” he explained, “So I decided to honour him by painting his image all over the city! And then people started leaving gifts, turning them into shrines. I know there are a lot of stories about my father, and the urban myth about his mirror seemed to fit in with the murals, people believe what they want to believe. But it makes me happy to know my father has not been forgotten – he is still a symbol of hope to the poorer communities in this city, Zara. My father, my hero father who made a great sacrifice for us all.”

“Do you remember him?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” Chester replied, touching the tips of his flippers together as he paused for thought, “I recall many memories of my father. I was very young at the time, he used to come and visit me before the war,” as he spoke, he opened up a flipper hand, “He would come in, sit down on the floor with me and then lift me into his arms. _I have missed you, my beautiful little boy,_ he said, _“Daddy loves you, Chester!_ ”

She smiled on hearing that.

“What about your mother?”

“My mother Fish often visited too, but they never came together because they were apart by then. She doted on me. She told me I was a clever little boy and one day, I would do great things!”

“And now you're an artist,” replied Zara.

“Yes,” he said proudly, “And in my spare time, I paint murals of my father.”

“How would you describe Oswald in a few words, for the book?” she asked him.

“Kind, loving, a man with a good heart,” he replied.

“Chester was working on a mural when we first met,” Bridgit said with a smile, “And since that day, we've never been apart.”

A look of love lingered between them, then Chester's phone rang and he got up quickly.

”Oh, that's the gallery – I had better take this call... I have an exhibition coming up soon!”

He waddle around to Zara's seat as she got up, and then he briefly hugged her.

“Thank you _so_ much for coming today, it is a pleasure to meet anyone who cares to tell my father's story,” he said warmly, and then he turned away, answering his phone as he waddled up the path, heading for a building at the back of the garden where the door was wide open and inside, canvases were propped up against it, paint drying in the sun.

“We should get going now, thanks for today,” Ed said to Bridgit.

“Yes, it means a lot,” Zara added.

Bridgit reached for the empty glasses on the table.

“Let me help you with that,” Zara said.

“I'll be in the car,” Ed told her, then he left the table and headed for the path that led to the front of the house.

As Zara followed Bridgit into a bright kitchen where sunlight spilled in through pure white nets, she set the jug and the tray on the table as Bridgit put the glasses in the dishwasher.

“You really didn't need to help, but thanks,” she said.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something in private,” said Zara.

Bridgit closed the dishwasher and looked at her intently.

“What's this about?” she asked as she joined her as she stood beside the table.

Now seemed like the only time she could ask her, and she needed to know...

“I've noticed your skin is perfect,” Zara began, “Beautiful, there's not a trace of your scars...Did you...”

”Did I do the ritual?” Bridgit guessed as she lowered her voice, “That's what you're asking me?”

Zara looked at her with apology in her gaze.

“I know there's more, Bridgit. Ever since I first decided to come to Gotham and write the book, I've been seeing things in pictures I've taken, things that shouldn't be there...circles. Does that make any kind of sense to you?”

Bridgit looked back at her, saying nothing as she slowly shook her head.

“I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have asked.”

“I did the ritual,” Bridgit said quietly, “fifteen years back. No one wanted me, I was of no use to anyone in a city where the underworld didn't employ so called Gotham monsters any more - and I just wanted to be normal again!”

”And so you did the summoning?”

Bridgit took in a slow breath, looking to the open door and down the garden. Chester was still busy with his paintings as he spoke on the phone. She kept her voice low as she spoke again, never wanting Chester to know this part of her story.

“He granted my wish. He gave me the most beautiful skin I could wish for. And then he said, if I wanted to keep it, I would have to make a life with the ugliest man in Gotham. _He meant Chester._ He thought in his sick and twisted way, that would be funny. But I beat him, I won – very few do get what they want from the ritual, but I did, because when I met Chester, I fell in love with him! After all the years of living with burns and scars, I knew that what really mattered lie below the surface. Chester has a beautiful soul. He's the love of my life.”

As she looked at her, Zara felt confused.

“You did the ritual and he healed your burns, but told you to marry Chester? He called him ugly? But Chester said his father loved him, Oswald _never_ would have said that about his son!”

She shook her head on hearing those words.

“ _Oswald?”_ she said doubtfully, then she looked away, “You don't know what I know. You don't _want_ to know!”

“Maybe I do!” Zara stepped closer, looking at her pleadingly, “I think there's something else going on here – beyond Oswald and that mirror! What do the circles mean? I have to know!”

Bridgit looked at her in horror.

“You didn't do the summoning, _please_ tell me you didn't touch that mirror -”

“Why? What would be so bad about me summoning Oswald?”

Bridgit slowly shook her head.

“Don't do it,” she said, “That's all I'm saying to you – _don't_ mess with that mirror.”

“ _What if I already have?”_ Zara asked in a hushed voice.

Bridgit's face paled.

“I need you to do the school run later today – I have to go over to the gallery,” said Chester as he waddled into the kitchen.

“Yes, that's fine,” Bridgit replied, turning from Zara as she forced a smile, hiding her fears from Chester.

“Zara was just leaving,” she added, shooting her a glance that said, what ever she was afraid of, she didn't want it to come near her family, and she wanted her out of the house, too.

“Bye,” Zara said with a polite smile as Chester smiled broadly back, and then she turned away and left by the back door, following the path around to the front of the house where Ed was waiting in the car as she started to break into a sweat. Asking questions had got her nowhere, except to understand that something was going on under the surface, clearly, there was a darker threat lurking at that mansion than Oswald's ghost... and maybe, even Oswald didn't know of its presence, because surely, the king of the underworld would have done something about it by now?He wouldn't have shared his home with... what ever that _thing_ was that had showed up in her pictures... She felt shaken as she got into the car and hoped it didn't show as Ed started up the engine.

“I'll drive you back to the mansion,” he told her, “But we have to stop off first, I need to buy something for my wife.”

She nodded, saying nothing as she tried to hold together shattered nerves as she thought about Bridgit's warning as they drove away, heading back towards the city.

Zara was quiet as they drove along, Ed was talking about his wife and how he liked to surprise her with little gifts. She smiled and nodded, saying nothing as her thoughts raced... Brigit knew more than she dared to let on. She was afraid of something. Jim Gordon seemed to know something, too, given the way he had warned her about that mirror being like a Ouija board:

_What the hell was he so scared of?_

_He was James Gordon, he had been fighting crime in this tough city for years..._

_And Bridgit Pike, formerly Firefly, formerly, Oswald's enforcer too – surely there was nothing that scared her?_

_But this did._

_Something was so dark and powerful that it scared even the toughest of those who remembered Gotham as it was in in the old days..._

She wanted to talk to Ed, to ask him more, even if it meant confessing everything... She had to, for her sake and for Alex. She just hoped Ed would forgive her when he realised she had summoned his dead lover's ghost, and they had become intimate...

Ed parked the car away from the busy heart of the city, they were almost at the edge of town and here the stores were smaller and the traffic and streets were quiet. He told Zara he wouldn't be long and then he got out of the car, crossed the street and headed for a bakery. Zara heard her phone buzz, and smiled as she read the message from Alex:

_I see nothing weird in the photos. Maybe we should look at them together when you get home._

She sent a quick reply, still smiling as relief flooded through her, of course Alex was okay. Yesterday had been terrible, but they had moved on from it. Everything would be okay.

_I can show you what you're missing,_ she wrote, _It's in every picture, Alex. I'll be home soon._

She sent the message.

He quickly responded with a reply:

_Here's something you're missing! w_ rote Alex, enclosing a picture. 

She looked at the photo as surprise registered on her face:

It was a close up of his hard cock.

“Really, Alex?” she said, “Didn't you get enough this morning?”

Then Zara sent another reply:

_Okay, horny! See you soon!_

Then she put the phone back in her pocket and turned her thoughts back to the situation at hand:

_Ed was the only one she could turn to for answers. She had to talk to him..._

As he crossed the street carrying a cake box, she got out of the car and stood there as he hurried over to the parked vehicle and opened up the door.

“Look at this!” he said with a smile, “Cupcakes for my cupcake!”

He opened up the box to show Zara some very expensive cupcakes, they were small and decorated with chocolate swirls and sprinkles that sparkled. Some had edible roses on them, and she guessed Ed must have paid quite a bit for this deluxe selection. Ed closed the box and carefully placed it on the back seat, then he closed the car door and realised she was still standing there.

“Do you need to go somewhere before we leave?” he asked.

Zara looked at him knowing it was now time to speak, or stay silent forever. She took a deep breath.

“There's something you don't know,” she began, “I'm sorry, but I did the ritual. I was curious, so I did it and I saw him, I saw Oswald!”

Ed stared at her.

”You... you saw... _Oswald?_ ”

“I asked him to heal Alex, to fix his leg. But he told me that wasn't my heart's desire. I'm infertile, I can't have kids but when I was in bed with Alex, it's like Oswald took him over, he was with me too and later he told me -”

“ _Oswald_ told you?” Ed looked confused.

“Yes, Oswald... He said I would be pregnant, Alex was the father but so was he -”

“ _Oh no..._ ” Ed took in a sharp breath as he stood there, on the brink of panic as he looked about the quiet street, then took in a slow breath, shaking his head as his gaze shifted to the ground.

“No, no, Zara...” he muttered.

“Ed, _listen_ to me, I'm sorry!” she clutched at the sleeve of his jacket as she looked at him, eyes wide as his gaze met hers and she spoke again:

“I found something! I don't know if Oswald knows it's there, but there's something else in the mansion! I saw it in every picture I took since I arrived in the city, circles – two of them! Always in shadow or part reflected in the background... like something is over my shoulder all the time! It first showed up on the day I went online and followed a link and read about the Penguin urban legend, that was the day I decided to come to Gotham! It's in every picture since that day, Ed! Something is following me!”

Ed had stood there listening, looking at her in alarm as he listened to it all, shaking his head as she related her tale, then he took in an unsteady breath, swallowing hard before he spoke.

“Oh dear. This is not going to be easy to explain, Zara – none of it is! I'm not sure what to say. I don't know if I should call Jim -”

“Jim Gordon? Why him?”

“Because he knows too... Oh, _why_ did you have to mess with that mirror? You're a writer, I thought that meant sensible research, facts, _not_ fooling around with urban myths!”

Ed was clearly worked up now.

“I need your help!” she exclaimed, “Why will no one tell me what's going on? There's something in my photos, like it's stalking me! And why did Jim compare that mirror to a Ouija board?”

Ed paused to take another breath, fighting off tension and panic that clashed together as he met her gaze.

“He said it was as dangerous as a Ouija board, because those boards can lie! _Just like the mirror at the mansion lies_.”

Her eyes widened.

“ _Lies?”_

“You read about the legend, the urban myth about summoning Oswald. You saw his picture, handsome Ozzy, the gentleman underworld king...Of _course_ you fell for him! You wanted to summon Oswald, you wanted to be with him, and so that's what it gave you!”

As she thought of the child Oswald had promised was growing inside her, she felt a sickening coldness sweep over her.

“I saw Oswald. His ghost, I made love to his ghost!”

“You made love to _a_ ghost, it knew you wanted Oswald, so it pretended to be him to get what it wanted!”

She shook her head.

”No,” she said firmly, recalling Oswald's touch, his voice, the scent of his cologne, “No, Ed it _was_ Oswald!”  
 _“It was NOT Oswald!”_ he said sharply.

She glared at Ed, desperately hoping he was wrong. He had to be wrong. Oswald had said she was carrying his child, and if he wasn't the real Oswald, whose child was inside her? Maybe Ed was just angry, knowing she had been making love with his dead lover, knowing she had summoned him and Oswald had wanted her...

“I'm sorry, Ed!” she said again, “I know you loved him, and I'm sorry if this hurts, but I _did_ summon him, it was Oswald! And he did make love to me.”

Ed slowly shook his head as his anger simmered down.

”No, I'm sorry Zara, but it _wasn't_ Oswald.”

“Yes it was, Ed,” she said in a hushed voice.

Ed paused to gather his thoughts and then he stepped closer, glancing about the quiet street to be sure no one would hear what he was about to say, and then he spoke again, knowing there was only one way to clear this up, starting with the truth:

“No, Zara,” he said again, “You did _not_ summon Oswald's ghost. I know that for a fact. Welcome to the best kept secret in the Gotham underworld: _Oswald Cobblepot is still alive...and I can prove it, too. I can take you to him._ ”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Ed's words had stunned her into a shocked silence as they began on a drive to a new destination. As he drove, he started to speak and Zara listened, still taking in the fact that Oswald was alive. Who ever the ghost really was, it was _not_ Oswald Cobblepot. And she had let him into her bed, believing he was the Penguin. He had been deceiving her all the long. She didn't know if the pretender was a spirit or a demon, it all felt sick and bad and left her with a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, but at least as Ed explained more about the real, living Oswald, she felt thankful to know he was very much alive:

“You assumed I had a wife - so I let you think think that,”Ed said as they drove along, “It was easier to say nothing than let slip that I have been married to another man for more than thirty years. It _might_ have aroused suspicion over who that man could be! Oswald's survival is a very well kept secret...” he paused for thought and then continued, “He was badly wounded fighting for the city. He almost lost his life, he paid a heavy price to defend Gotham and to save me from the impact of that explosion. And I was told he would probably die, so I sat with him in the hospital and I held his hand, I told him all the things I'd never said - or been too lazy to say until that moment - I told him he was everything to me, I begged him to live...” he blinked away tears as he glanced at Zara, “And he did,” he said, his words spoken softy as he recalled the moment Oswald had started to show signs of recovery, “But we knew we couldn't let the rest of the city now he was alive.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Oh, he would have been in _SO_ much shit after the war!” Ed exclaimed, shaking his head as he recalled the reason behind the secrecy, “Theft of antiques, gold, jewels, cash - you name it, Oswald stole it! And then there was the bullet manufacturing, the weapons dealing... But he always tried to make the most of a bad situation, he tried to turn things around, to build up something useful and worthwhile, even when the city fell – and he did fight for the liberty of Gotham. He fought beside me and Jim Gordon on that day. And when he was wounded and expected to die, he didn't, my Ozzie pulled through. So we decided -”

“We?” she said.

“Myself, Jim Gordon and his wife Lee, she's a doctor, she was treating Oswald at the time. We decided to say he was dead, so he could start a new life with me away from the underworld, it was for the best, to help him avoid prosecution, no one wanted to see him go to jail, even Jim, not after he paid such a price to defend this city. And I wanted to keep him safe,” as he glanced at Zara, a look of fondness filled his eyes as he thought back, “Oswald didn't regain consciousness for a few days. The explosion had damaged his eye, and he had been hit by shrapnel, a piece of it embedded in his skull and caused damage. But he defied the odds and woke up and as soon as he did, I said, _You're not running this city any more, Oswald. You_ _can't, because it's over and you're a wanted man. So we have to fake your death._ And Ozzie just looked up at me for a moment, and then he said, _What else don't I know?_ And I replied, _We're getting married, Ozzie_... And we did, we got married three days later, while he was still recovering. Best decision I ever made, marrying my Oswald! No one knew he was alive, only me and Jim and Lee – and those in the underworld who needed to know...Someone else had to step in after Oswald was no longer in charge, and I like to think they did a great job of it.”

Despite her own fears, hearing Oswald's story had lifted her spirits a little, after all she had been through, chasing shadows, a ghost that was not Oswald – to find out Oswald was alive, was a welcome relief.

“So you and Oswald have been living quietly together ever since?”

He smiled on hearing that as he took the car down a quiet, well to do avenue and carried on driving up the road, “It wasn't always easy. But we had money we kept and used for investment in certain business ventures. I worked from home, and employed others to work for me, so I could spend most of my time with Ozzie. He had a hard time, it was a long way back for him after what that explosion did to him. And then, as if that wasn't enough to take on, I said, _Let's bring the boys home!_ So we brought Ozzie's two sons to live with us. Little Chester, he was almost three, and Martin, Oswald's adopted son, he was eight years old at the time. The boys grew up together. And having those kids home was just what Ozzie needed, he improved so quickly once the boys were back. It was a lot of hard work for me, Ozzie with his injuries, little Chester with his obvious differences - and Martin couldn't speak, he was born with a condition that affected his vocal chords, so he used to write everything down when he wanted to say something. But we made it work, and made a very happy family.”

He turned the car into the driveway of a large house in a huge plot of land. The gardens were beautifully landscaped, and if there was any kind of clue as to who really lived here, there was a fountain in the middle of the lawn where stone penguins frolicked under a waterfall. She suddenly realised Chester had perhaps taken inspiration from his father's home - he had a fountain too, and his contained a large fish – perhaps a reference to his late mother. Ed parked the car and shut off the engine.

“Who took over the underworld after Oswald disappeared?” Zara asked.

Ed got out of the car as Zara did the same, he paused to lift the box of cupcakes from the back seat, and then he looked at her and smiled.

”For fifteen years after Oswald's disappearance, the underworld was ruled by a very fine gentleman - he was witty, handsome smart as a whip and he only stepped down because it was time for someone else to take over...I'm sure everyone who recalls his reign as king of Gotham will remember his charm and his showmanship, too!”

Before she could ask more, he turned to the house.

“Come with me. Wait in the hallway while I speak to Oswald, I need to explain what's happened... I do hope Ozzie doesn't get worked up over this!”

Then he led her up to the front door, opened it and she followed him inside.

The house was decorated in a style similar to the mansion - fine furnishings, antiques and velvet drapes. There were pictures in the hallway and as she glanced at them, she saw Chester, no older than three, sitting on Oswald's lap as he smiled for the picture, his little flipper hand raised as he opened it and smiled broadly. In that picture, Oswald wore an eye patch, and he was in a wheelchair. A young by stood at his side, smiling for the camera, his hair spiked up like Oswald. _Must be Martin,_ she thought to herself. There were also pictures of Ed and Oswald, clearly this was later on, Oswald was standing beside Ed and embracing him by a Christmas tree. There were pictures of the kids getting older, too - all photos showed the story of a happy family home, and the love between Ed and Oswald was obvious, as she noticed a picture of the two of them, Oswald stood close to Ed as Ed put a protective arm around him, love shining in his gaze as he looked at Oswald, who was still recognisable even though he was older now. He was still an elegant dresser, a little heavier now, and he had a scar beneath his right eye, but he was every bit as handsome as he had been in his youth, his hair was still dark and spiked, and he wore eyeliner and, if she wasn't mistaken, mascara too as he stood there in a long velvet coat with feathers around the collar:

_Oswald was alive._

_He wasn't a ghost, he wasn't her lover, either - but to know he was alive had made her smile. Despite everything that had happened, and all that she still feared might be hiding in the mansion – he was alive, and she knew she was glad._

They paused by a doorway. The door was open and what looked like a library area had an archway just beyond it, part covered by a tied back purple velvet drape, and from somewhere beyond that, came a trail of cigarette smoke.

 _He's really alive..._ ran through her mind as she looked on.

“I'll just speak to Oswald, give me a minute,” said Ed, and she waited by the doorway, stepping a little closer to the threshold as she watched Ed walk through the room and pass by the shelves of books and the darkened fireplace, then into the room beyond the archway where a large potted plant with shiny leaves sat beside a window covered by nets that looked brilliant white against sunlight.

Ed walked away from the arch, and his voice sounded a little further away as he spoke.

“I got these for you, my dear!”

“Cupcakes? Thank you, Ed, you know how to make me smile!” that reply was said by a silky, softly spoken voice filled with warmth. It was a voice she instantly recognised - it was Oswald.

Then Ed's voice dropped as he said, “ _Something has happened at the house_...” and the two men spoke low as she stood there, too far away to hear what was said until the conversation was at a close.

“Well, we should at least try and do something,” Oswald told him, “Bring her in.”

She found herself taking a deep breath as Ed returned to the doorway, as memories of the ghost who had looked like Oswald making love to her fired up in her mind, clashing with a firm reminder that the real Oswald was happily married and had been for many years. Her face flushed. She guessed she ought to be feeling worried, scared too about all that had happened - but it wasn't over it yet, and Oswald Cobblepot was alive, and she was about to meet him...

“Come with me,” Ed said to her, “Oswald would like to speak with you.”

Zara followed Ed through the library, then through the arch into a comfortable room with padded leather seating. There was a desk on the other side of the room and paperwork on the table, a half empty glass of scotch was beside it, along with a cigarette extinguished in a marble ashtray.

_And there he was._

_Very much alive._

_Older, scarred from the war, leaning on an elegant cane and dressed in a dapper suit with hair that was jet black and spiked just like in the old days..._

_Yes, he really was alive._

_She was looking at Oswald Cobblepot!_

He limped forward stiffly and extended a hand. His bright blue eyes were piercing, he briefly smiled as fine lines traced around his face, he was a handsome man who had aged well and with grace.

She reached for his hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” he said warmly, “And I'm so sorry about the... _situation_ you have encountered. Ed just told me everything.”

She had just accepted his handshake and as he let go, as she looked at him, it hit her:

_Oh, shit! He knows that thing in the mirror pretended to be him... to have sex - with me!_

“I'm really sorry about all this, I don't know where to start!”

Oswald leaned on his cane as he closed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Let's sit down and talk about this,” he said in a reassuring tone, “I'm sure there's something we can do.”

He limped over to a padded leather sofa in a shade of deep brown and sat down, gesturing to the spot beside him.

”Please sit down, talk to me, Zara.”

As she sat down, he glanced up at Ed.

“Perhaps some tea, Edward.”

“Right,” Ed replied, and left the room.

Zara sat there in silence as she looked at Oswald.

“It's okay to talk to me - I don't bite!”he said with a smile, and then his smile faded.

“I fully understand you have been deceived by that... _thing_ you called from the mirror. You wanted to believe in the legend, so do many people. But the truth is, when they think they call the Penguin, they don't, because as you can see, I'm alive and well. What they do get instead is a liar who takes on my image to play cruel and twisted games. What did it ask you to do?”

She shook her head, feeling utterly confused. It had only just occurred to her that when she had performed the summoning, the spirit in the glass had not asked anything of her at all...

“He didn't ask me to do anything,” she said as she looked at Oswald, “I did the ritual and asked for my boyfriend Alex to be healed - he shattered his leg in a car accident. I just wanted his pain to stop. I didn't think it had worked, but later on when I was out in the city, it appeared to me - it looked and sounded just like you! And it said to me that I lied, that my deepest desire was actually to have a child... I've not really thought about the things I can't have, I'm infertile.”

Oswald's eyes slowly widened.

“And what else did it say to you, Zara?”

“That I was carrying his child. I don't know if he's lying to me, it's too soon to find out. But I was in bed with Alex and suddenly, I was in bed with … _him_... instead. Then he said I would have a child, that it was his child, but fathered by Alex... And he hasn't asked me to do anything in return, I don't get that part, _why_ hasn't he asked me for a favour, isn't that supposed to be how it works?”

Oswald paused for thought, then a troubled look came to his arctic gaze.

“Very few have ever done a deal with the spirit in the glass and come off well from it,” he told her, “But it has always demanded something in return, always delivering the promise in some twisted kind of way, after asking for something in return, that usually leads to unhappiness or worse. It wasn't that way for Brigit. It gave her beautiful skin, and then threatened to restore her scars if she didn't marry what it considered to be the ugliest man in Gotham.”

“And that backfired,” she replied, “It didn't win that time, I know that much from Bridgit.”

Oswald nodded.

“Bridgit and Chester fell deeply in love. If anyone living had said such a cruel thing about Chester, I would have put them in the river with a bullet in their head!” his tone had became one of fierce protectiveness for his son, “But how do you destroy a life that is already deceased? I haven't been back to the mansion in over thirty years. Ed and I made our home here and raised the boys together, but I kept hearing these tales of this spirit that was using the legend, making the most of my apparent death to take my image and deceive the living...Many have tried over the years to contact what they believe is my ghost. But it isn't me, as you can see, Zara.”

“Then what is it?” she asked quietly.

Ed returned to the room and set a tray on the table. Oswald thanked him as he looked to the fine china tea set.

“Some of our best china,” he remarked, “It is Hungarian, it once belonged to my mother.”

Then he poured the tea as Ed sat on the armchair close by.

“So what are we going to do, Oswald?” he asked, “Should I call Jim and -”

“Leave James out of this!” Oswald said as Zara caught a flash of something in his eyes that perhaps hinted at the feared underworld king he used to be, “I heard all about the stunt he pulled, going over to the house...” he glanced at Zara, “Your boyfriend has a past. We all have at past, especially in Gotham! He had no right to drag up a criminal record in the hopes of driving you out - that was his ultimate intention, to get you both out of that house. He worries greatly about the risk posed to those who perform the ritual. I think he's had enough of seeing people in body bags, people who have tampered with that mirror!”

She caught her breath as her hand shifted back from the fine china. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, and gently closed his hand over hers as he softened his tone.

“Please, try not to be alarmed. The ritual is dangerous, but it seems so far you've not been harmed. It could be the spirit is planning something. But what, I have no idea!” he looked at Ed, who gave shrug.

“Maybe all he wanted was the sex? Sorry, Zara!I just mean, it's known as a lustful spirit, and if all it wanted from you was satisfaction, be glad you're not hurt.”

“But it said I was pregnant.”

Ed and Oswald exchanged a glance.

“Let's hope it's lying,”Ed replied.

“Yes,” Oswald agreed, “That is highly likely. Perhaps it was simply taking advantage of you. And that does not surprise me,” he shook his head, “I am so sorry this has happened, Zara!”

He paused to sip his tea and set it down again.

“Has anything else happened?”

“Circles,” she said, as the thought of the marks in the pictures made her throat go tight, “I found the first one after I took a picture at a mural shine. It was lurking in shadow, like two circles in the dark beside the painting... when I looked back at every picture I'd taken since I first arrived here, it was there, somewhere, in every shot. Then I looked back further and that was when I realised it had started on the day I first followed a link to the Gotham legend... it attached to me by clicking on a _website?_ ”

Oswald fell silent. Ed spoke up.

“I don't doubt it latched on to you as soon as you read about the urban legend,” he replied, “If it chose you for its pleasure, it's over, it's finished. You should cover the mirror, and you need to tell Alex you're both leaving - and you're welcome to stay here with us while you finish the research for the book.”

She glanced at Oswald, who smiled warmly.

“Of course you can stay here! And I know my son would love to meet you, he adores your book on urban decay.”

His words had brought her comfort. Yes, maybe it was over. Perhaps all that spirit had wanted was carnal pleasure. And she hoped she wasn't pregnant, now she knew the truth. It seemed likely given it's dishonesty, that the ghost had lied to her about the baby...

“I would love to do that!” she told him, “Are you sure, I mean, as long as it's not inconvenient, I would love to stay here with you both while I write about your life - you could tell me everything about the past, at least, everything you're happy to see printed!”

“You are more than welcome here,” he told her.

Then her smile faded as she remembered something. It had been so easy to forget her questions in Oswald's company, after he had set her mind at ease and made such a generous offer. But now, something had come back to the front of her mind as she looked at him intently.

“You didn't tell me what the circles mean. Do you know what that thing in the mirror is? I need to know, is it a demon? Are demons even real, or is it a spirit of someone who once lived?”

Oswald had briefly glanced away looking to Ed, who took a deep breath and slowly shook his head.

“You really don't want to know the answer to _that_ question, Zara!” Ed told her.

“But I do!” she looked from Ed to Oswald, “Please, someone tell me what's been stalking me, what's _touched_ me... I need to know!”

Oswald gave a heavy sigh.

“We should enlighten her,” he said, glancing to Ed, “It's only fair..” he looked back at Zara, “Not that you have any cause to worry now - you're leaving that house, he's had his selfish, twisted fun and thankfully he didn't harm you...”

“I'll fetch the book,” said Ed, and he got up from his seat and went back through the archway towards the library area.

“What book?” she asked.

“All will be explained very shortly,” Oswald assured her, “And please, try and remember, you are _very_ safe here – you and Alex will be completely safe here with us - with _me_. I want you both to pack up and leave that house today, just get out of there quickly, Zara.”

Ed returned with a large hard back book entitled _Villains of Old Gotham_. He handed it to Oswald.

“You're on pages nineteen to one hundred and ten!” Ed remarked, “But, you were the Penguin and that's a _lot_ of history to cover!”

“And that is in the past,” Oswald reminded him as he placed the book on his lap and began to turn the pages, “If only there could be a book about the second half of my life, with you, what a different tale it would tell!”

“It certainly would,” Ed agreed fondly.

Oswald was still turning the pages, going past the middle of the book now.

“Here it is,” he said, and for a moment, he briefly turned the cover up, shielding her view from the content as he turned to look at her.

“The mirror in my family home is haunted because, for a brief time in my youth, when I was associated with the Legion of Horribles, it once stood in my dining room - reflecting the table and those who sat around it...”

“Reflecting your chair,” said Zara.

“No,” Oswald replied, looking intently at her as she felt a chill creep through the air and the flesh on her arms prickle with goosebumps, “ _Not my chair. His chair._ He was an arrogant, anarchistic psychopath who lived for the thrill of destruction! He was insane, a violent murderer - there is nothing I can say about him that is remotely flattering. He was evil, Zara. Perhaps that mirror captured something of his darkness in life – it became his portal in death. And during the course of his short but blood drenched rain of terror, his face was cut off and reattached, leaving him with terrible scarring....” Oswald's voice dropped low as he paused to take slow breath as he looked down at the book.

“Those circles you saw in your photographs is him, his eyes...He was with you from the second you followed that online link and read about the murals that happened to have been linked to my mirror. The mirror he uses as a portal. This is the man who _really_ seduced you.”

Oswald turned back the page as she looked in horror at the sight of a young man with red hair and a manic grin, his face was etched with scars including two wide circles carved around his eyes.

“ _That's what hides in the mirror,”_ Oswald told her, _“His name was Jerome Velaska.”_

She gave a gasp. To see that face unmasked, as she thought of those circles in her photographs, his eyes watching her... it was all too much as she gave a sob. The thought of him, hiding behind a disguise, pretending to be Oswald... he had seduced her, taken over Alex, had sex with her... and this was what he really looked like? This was who he really was, a maniac had touched her, had used Alex to get her pregnant?

“ _I can't be pregnant!”_ she sobbed in horror.

Oswald put his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace that was filled with the scent of cologne and a trace of cigarette smoke.

“It's alright, my dear, you're safe now,” he said, “I'm sure Jerome was just playing a sick game. You're not pregnant, why would he go to that trouble? He's not kind, generous or compassionate, he has no reason to give you a child!”

“Yes, he has no reason at all,” Ed added, thinking about it as he looked back at Oswald in confusion.

As Zara wept and the shock sunk in, Oswald held her as he talked softly, reassuring her the ordeal was over now. She soon began to calm down, feeling so safe to be held by the real Oswald – who was nothing like the dagger welding, icy spirit who had taken on his appearance – clearly, Jerome had made a good job of fooling others into believing he was Oswald, using the mirror and the myth to his advantage over the years. But she saw the truth now, and she was sure this would be the end of it. As her tears stopped and she regained composure Oswald let go of her, and poured her more tea. He handed her a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and she wiped her eyes.

“There is nothing to fear now,” he assured her, “The truth has freed you. Jerome was a vile, destructive and lustful young man.”

“He was sex obsessed,” Ed agreed, “But you know the truth now. And you're out of that house today - you and Alex need to pack up your stuff and come back here. I guarantee Jerome's spirit wont dare to enter this house.”

“Why not, how can you be sure?” she asked, and her hand shook as she reached for the tea cup.

“Because he seems to fear Oswald,” Ed replied, “We've had attempts at destroying the mirror – by others, and with no success and in some cases, loss of life. But I was able to move the mirror to the attic. We have a theory that if a person knows the truth about what's inside the glass, he's unable to cause them harm. And now you know the truth, I think the spell is broken. I realise what you've been through is terrible - but, a lot of people who have done the ritual have wound up dead. At least you and Alex get to walk away from this.”

She nodded, then she set the cup down on a saucer and looked to Oswald, then to Ed.

“I think you're right about that,” she agreed, “He can't get to me, not now I know the truth. As soon as I get back, I'm going tell Alex we're leaving, then we're packing up and coming back here.”

Oswald smiled.

“And you are welcome to stay until your research is compete,” he reminded her, “You will both be very safe here, my dear.”

She managed a smile as she looked at Oswald. This was the _real_ Penguin, and already she felt safer, knowing she and Alex would be staying here, with Oswald and his husband, far away from that mansion and that mirror and the lies that it told...

The mood of the conversation began to lighten as Ed spoke up.

“By the way, Zara – you said you wanted to meet the modern Gotham underworld... well, that handsome, witty genius who stepped in after Oswald had to step down, is someone you've already met!”

He gave her a dazzling smile.

“He's talking about himself!” Oswald exclaimed, “Ed took over from me for fifteen years and then -”

Ed chuckled.

“Robo King took over! That's what his friends call him...”

Now Oswald looked amused.

“He's referring to -”

Just then, the door opened and footsteps could be heard as someone walked briskly towards the archway.

“It's about time he was up!” Oswald said.

He breezed into the room, tall and handsome with brown hair spiked like Oswald. He was in his thirties, wore a suit but no tie, his shirt was open and he had a vertical scar down his throat, set into that scar was a silver disc. He looked to his fathers as his dark eyes sparkled playfully. Then he spoke up, his words sounding robotic, yet edged with warmth as his voice implant conveyed his words.

“I had a late night.” he looked to Zara and smiled, “It was charity work. I spent many hours donating to a worthy cause – dancers without clothes!”

Ed laughed.

“You spend far too much time at that lap dancing club!” he said.

“And now you've met the current king of the Gotham underworld,” Oswald told Zara, “Meet our son, Martin Nygma.”

Martin stepped closer as Zara got up, and he caught her hand, kissing the back of it instead of shaking it.

“I had a voice implant when I was nineteen,” he stated, indicating to the disc in his throat, “That is why I sound like a robot. But now I can talk I never shut up. I run the underworld. My friends call me Robo King,” he smiled, “You can call me whatever you like... as long as you sign my copy of your book, Ms Fox!”

“Perhaps later,” Oswald said as he leaned on his cane and got up, “Zara has had a terrible experience. It seems that cursed mirror has struck again.”

“But it's over now,” Ed added as he got up too and begin to clear away the tea from the table.

“Zara and her partner are coming to stay with us until she's finished her research.”

Martin turned his head and looked at Zara.

“I have heard horror stories about that mirror and that mansion,” he stated in a metallic tone, “Too many. It is best if you stay here if things have got freaky.”

“They certainly did, but that's over now,” she said with a smile.

Soon after, Oswald bid her a fond farewell and reminded her not to worry, and Martin smiled warmly and nodded in agreement.

“I'll drive you home,” said Ed, and they left together.

Now they were gone, Martin turned to his father as worry reflected in his gaze.

“Maybe someone should try and put an end to the shit going on with that mirror. I know Chester made those murals out of love. But Dad, people have made it into something its not and Velaska is using it. Feeding off it.”

Oswald nodded sadly.

“But how do I kill a man who is already dead?”

“Father has a theory,” he reminded him.

Oswald thought about Ed's theory and slowly shook his head.

“I believe that would be too risky.”

“So do I Dad,” Martin agreed, “I would not want you to risk your life.”

Oswald looked fondly at his son, feeling so proud of the man he had become who ran the underworld so well, who had such a sense of responsibility despite his love for the kind of girls Mother would have called _hussies_.

“You do not have to worry about me, I wont put myself at risk,” he assured him, “That house is best left empty, son. As soon as Zara and Alex are out of there, I'm having that place locked up for a _very_ long time!”

On the way back to the mansion, Alex sent a text:

_Where the fuck are you?_

Zara replied, _Don't worry, I'm fine, I'm on my way back! And I have a lot to tell you. See you soon._

“He sounded worried,” she remarked to Ed as they took the road that led back to the mansion, “Alex has had a hard time recently. Jim coming over and throwing the past in his face almost killed him. Literally...”

He heard the pain in her voice and glanced at her.

“What happened, is he okay?”

“He had a bit of a breakdown over what Jim told me - he took too many pills but he said it was a mistake, I found him in time and he's okay now, but I'm still worried about him.”

“The sooner you get out of that house, the better,” Ed told her as they drove through the gates and parked in the driveway, “Want me to wait for you while you get your stuff?”

She glanced up at the house. Now she knew the truth, remembering the truth would keep her safe, she didn't feel so threatened any more.

“No, We'll be fine - I'll go inside and sit down with Alex and explain everything. He's very sceptical about ghosts anyway, but once he knows we're staying with you and Oswald – that's going to be a _real_ surprise! We'll be over to you place by dark.”

“Call me if you need any help,” Ed reminded her.

She got out of the car.

“Thanks, I will,” she assured him, then the turned towards the house and Ed drove away.

For a moment she just stood there, looking up at the old mansion shaded by the heavy boughs of old trees, and suddenly, knowing all she did, the place didn't feel so welcome any more. She just wanted to go in, talk to Alex, then pack up and leave the place forever...

“ _Why the hell did you take so long?”_ Alex yelled as the front door opened up .

“There's no need to shout!”

She went inside and he closed the door heavily.

“Come with me,” she said, “We need to talk, there's so much you don't know - Oswald's not dead, he's been living with Ed for the past thirty years, they're married, they have a family! And Oswald told me that mirror is haunted by the ghost of a man named Jerome Velaska, and he's dangerous! They want us to leave and go and stay with them, they want us out of this house today, we're not safe here!”

Alex just stood there glaring at her.

”So Oswald's alive and he's a little bit loopy, just like Ed... they both believe in a haunted mirror....Or, they just want us out of this house, because Jim Gordon told them _I'm_ an ex con!”

She caught his hand.

“Sit down with me, let me explain everything!”

She led him through to the front room, looked to the comfortable chaise by the fireplace, but Alex just stood there so she stood too, taking a deep breath, ready to explain it all, even if he didn't believe her...

“Jerome Velaska masquerades as him to take advantage of the urban myth - and he's dangerous! Oswald said we could go and stay with him, we're not safe here, people have died because of that summoning ritual -”

She stopped talking, staring at Alex as he started to laugh.

“ _It's not funny!”_

He laughed harder.

“ _It's fucking hilarious!”_

“I know you don't believe in ghosts, but we need to pack up and get out of here, Alex!”

He was still bemused as he stepped closer to her, then he reached out and ran fingertips down a lock of her hair as he looked into her eyes.

“There's a plan here. I have a plan but, I doubt you can work out.”

She looked at him in confusion. The way he was standing, the way he was speaking, the look in his eyes - there was something not _quite_ right....

“I like this face of mine,”Alex added, “Oswald was _so_ pretty when he was younger. And I look a lot like him. I can live with that!”

She looked at him, he looked back at her.

Silence passed between them as she felt a creeping chill prickle her flesh. Alex just didn't seem... _right_.

“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked as she stepped closer, worry reflecting in her eyes:

_He looked like Alex._

_He sounded like Alex._

_But there was something not quite right..._

He leaned closer, smiling playfully.

“ _I've never felt better!”_

“You're behaving... _weird._ You haven't been the same since the overdose, I'm worried about you,” she told him, “As soon as we get out of here -”

“ _We're not in any rush to leave.”_

She blinked.

“Alex, the Nygmas want us to leave because they think we're in danger! _I_ think we are, too!”

“But I like it here,” he replied, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

As she looked into his eyes, she felt strange.

_Almost as if she wasn't being embraced by Alex at all..._

“There's something wrong with you,” she said in a low voice.

A look of amusement danced in his hazel eyes as he smiled.

“Allow me to explain,” he said with a smirk, and he leaned close to her ear saying words whispered low that filled her with horror:  
 _“It's like this, Zara..._ _He's not here right now. After I overdosed him, I pushed him out and slipped inside his nice, warm body! I'M. NOT. ALEX! My name is Jerome Velaska...”_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Zara was frozen with fear as Alex drew back from her.

_No, he wasn't Alex._

_Jerome Velaska had hijacked his body..._

He still looked like Alex, but there was a crazed look in his eyes as he laughed manically.

“ _Give him back to me!”_ she said tearfully, dragging in a breath as her heart raced as she wondered if Alex could come back from this, _if_ Valeska ever left his body...

He stepped closer, Alex in body, Jerome in soul.

“I'm sorry, I can't do that!” he said darkly, “I like it in here. I _need_ this body! Gotham needs me, Zara – my return in flesh!”

She slowly shook her head, stuck in a living nightmare as she looked at Alex, as Jerome shone from his crazed eyes.

“Why me? I'm sure you didn't need me to come here and bring Alex too just so you could possess a new body! You could have chosen anyone in this city!”

He stood there with a look of arrogance on his face as he listened to her, nodding and then he rolled his eyes.

“Are you done yet? Because you're _wrong_ about everything!”

As she heard him say that, anger began to take over from fear... this was Alex, her Alex... and Jerome Velaska had poisoned him with an overdose and used it to take him over, he had stolen his body... _And she wanted him back!_

She took a deep breath and looked hard at him, anger burning in her gaze.

“ _You're not having Alex!”_

He started to laugh. He didn't sound like Alex at all, this other inside him, inhabiting his body was giggling like crazy as he stood there and looked at her like she was the last one to get the joke.

“I could have any body I want for myself,” he said, “But us Velaskas come as a pair – I'm a TWIN! My brother Jeremiah needed me, he didn't know it in the last life, but, oh, how _well_ I shall raise him in this one!”

He had walked over to the chaise, his limp visible as the injuries Alex suffered no doubt pained Jerome too, but there was no trace of Alex in his hazel eyes any more as he looked coldly at Zara. She looked back at him. A horrible, sickening realisation had just swept over her:  
 _Twins. Jerome takes over Alex to gain a new body, uses him to get her pregnant, and there's another life for his brother Jeremiah to slide into..._

“You used Alex to father a vehicle for your twin brother's soul?” she said in disgust.

He shrugged.

“Jeremiah needed me, but he fucked up in life – we both did. But this time we will stay together. I will raise him like a father and as soon as he is old enough, we will conquer this city together, old school style, the Velaskas _will_ rise again!”

His eyes shone with excitement.

”Isn't this great!”

“Where's Alex?” she demanded, “Just tell me, is he dead?”

As she said that her heart was breaking as she stepped closer, rounding the chair close to the fireplace as she stood beside a container that held a fire poker and her hand closed over it. She didn't want to kill him, because as much as she wanted to tear out the rogue soul that had stolen his body, she didn't want to kill Alex, either...

_Unless he was already dead._

_Then there would be nothing to lose._

_Valeska wasn't getting his body, she would make sure of that..._

“He's in a dark place,” he said, “With no way out...while I get to be here, warm and alive thanks to his body!” evil glittered in his eyes as he tilted his head, taking in her murderous glare, “I'll tell you a little secret – he's not dead, because if he was, his body would be no use to me! I just stole it from him, and if you want to know how he's feeling, just know that he _really_ regrets his past – he wishes he could forget it ever happened, the robbery, the jail time – he's _so_ full of regrets, Zara! And you're not there to comfort him...”

She tugged the poker from its hook and swung it, but he jumped back as the iron connected with a vase that shattered sending shards over the chaise and on to the floor. Jerome's ghost laughed, looking at her gleefully through the eyes of Alex as he spoke again.

“I'd drop that if I were you, wouldn't want to hurt Alex, would you?” then his expression twisted to a mask of rage, _“DROP THE FUCKING POKER BITCH!”_

The poker slid from her hand, hitting the floor with a clatter as she stood there feeling all hope drain from her body. He was right – if she tried to stop him by force, she could kill Alex in the process. And he was right about something else too:

_She was pregnant._

_A baby by Alex, with Jerome's twin brother's soul._

_She couldn't even think about terminating this pregnancy._

_Biologically, Alex was the father._

_What the hell did Jerome expect her to do? Stay with him, pretend he was still Alex, have this baby and stand by doing nothing as the man who stole her boyfriend's body made his plans and raised his baby twin brother, so the two maniacs could have another reign of terror, this time, together?_

_But Alex was still alive, and that left her powerless to stop Jerome._

_She knew she was trapped, Jerome had worked this out perfectly – and no one outside this house knew Alex was possessed. He had everything the way he wanted it, he had latched on to her from the minute she had followed that link on the web and read about the urban myth. He had followed her, staying close to her and Alex, fooled her into believing he was Oswald's ghost, even tried out grabbing hold of Alex and sliding into his body so he could make love to her and sow the demon seed that would grow into his twin brother... Now she understood why it had seemed so unthinkable that Alex had taken that overdose – because he had not done it. Jerome had done this, he had done all of it, and there was nothing she could do about it..._

_Unless she revealed his true identity._

_Now she had a final straw to clutch at as she looked into the hazel eyes of Alex, now shining darkly with Jerome's spirit..._

“I _can_ stop you!” she said firmly, “I can tell the Nygmas who you are and what you've done!”

He laughed hard as he looked at her, shaking his head as madness shone in his eyes.

“Nice try, but there's nothing they can do, Zara! Look at me, here I am, here to stay!”

“ _So why are you so afraid of Oswald?”_ she yelled.

The manic gleam in his eyes faltered for a moment.

“ _WHY?”_ she demanded.

Any hint of fear or hesitation was gone as he glared at her.

“I had to hide the truth from him – and it doesn't matter now!”

She was shaking inside, but kept Alex firmly in her thoughts as she faced him, unwavering now.

“I can still wreck this deal you made with your brother!”

“You can't do anything, Zara,” he said as he smiled, his eyes darkening with menace as he stepped closer, “Alex is gone, I have his body.”

Determination fired up in her eyes.

“I could walk out of here right now and take this baby from you – and then what can you do, Jerome? I'll be far away, with this baby!”

“ _I'll stop you.”_

“Are you going to kill me?” she said, leaning closer to him as she glared at him, “If you kill me, your brother has no way into this world!”

He started to chuckle. In that moment she saw the kind of crazed look in his eyes that she had seen in the picture Oswald had showed her of Jerome Valeska.

“If you do that,” he said, “I'll just find someone else to fuck and they can make the vessel for Jeremiah!”

“I'll stop you!” she vowed.

His hand was on her throat in a blur as her back hit the wall and he held her there pinned with speed and strength that went far beyond anything the living could do. He smiled as he looked at her, watching her whimper as terror shone in her eyes.

“ _You're mine, that thing in your belly is mine, and you can forget about Alex!”_ he said darkly...

Her phone was ringing. It carried on ringing in her pocket and she gave a gasp as he reached in, dragged it out and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and the screen shattered on impact. She could still hear the ringing as it smacked to the floor, then it fell silent.

“No one can help you now!” he told her.

She summoned her strength, remembering Jerome had only borrowed her boyfriend's body.

“Sorry Alex!” she said as Jerome's manic gaze registered confusion.

Her knee slammed into his groin and he let go of her in agony, buckling as he fell to his knees, now hit by a shock wave of pain from the busted leg that gave Alex so much hell.

“ _BITCH!”_ he yelled, but she had bolted for the door as Jerome staggered to his feet, still feeling pain in the knee and balls of Alex Royce as he limped hard and fast towards the door, navigating a damaged body as he clung to the door frame, looked to the front door and it slammed with such force the walls shook. The force of the slam made her shriek as she stopped, turned back and saw him standing there in the hallway, an evil smile on his face as he slowly shook his head.

“ _What do I have to do to get through to you?”_ he raged.

She bolted across the hallway, heading for the dining room. As she slammed the door behind her, he looked at it darkly. It burst open with force as Jerome chuckled and began to walk towards it.

Oswald and Edward Nygma stood side by side in the shrine room close to the Narrows, admiring the work of Chester, whose love for his father was plain to see in the beautiful mural he had created. Someone had been here recently, a candle was burning low in a glass jar, and as he looked to the gifts left propped against the wall, the array of umbrellas, the stack of bottles containing fine brandy, Oswald shook his head.

”How can a loving son's gesture to his father become woven into such a dark myth?” he remarked as he looked up at the mural of his younger self, “Chester put these around the city with the secret message, _Penguin lives_. Such a loving gesture, yet the superstitious had to tie it to the stories around the mirror... It fills me with rage to think what Jerome has got up to over the years, pretending to be my ghost, luring people in...”

“But everyone thinks you're dead,” Ed reminded him, “And they just want to believe. In a city like this, people need something to believe in, so why not believe in you?”

As he said that, he turned his head and looked at Oswald, smiling fondly.

“You're a symbol of hope for these people.”

“And how I wish Jerome's spirit had never had the chance to turn _that_ into something so terrible!” Oswald replied, then he leaned on his cane and made his way towards the shrine, pausing to look at the gifts that lay scattered between darkened candles. There were notes beneath some of the jars. Oswald reached stiffly for one and picked it up and began to read.

“Oh, this is sad. A request for help with better housing,” he walked carefully among the scattered objects at the foot of the shrine and as he started to pick up more of the notes, Ed stepped in.

“I'll do it.”

“I'm perfectly capable of handling this, Ed! I just want every last one, I want to see what these people think I'm going to give them...”

“And I'm thinking about your leg and your hip,” Ed replied, “I'll pick them up.”

And he did, as Oswald stood there leaning on his cane, his eyes meeting the gaze of the mural looking out from the brickwork as daylight spilled in on the eyes of the younger Penguin.

“Jerome has to be stopped,” he said in a low voice, “I couldn't say this in front of Martin, but he's attending to business now, so we can finally talk. Perhaps your theory all those years ago was right.”

Ed stood there folding the notes as he looked to Oswald in alarm.

“You can't take that risk, Oswald! I might be right. But let's _not_ risk it to find out!”

As Ed put the notes in his pocket, Oswald stepped closer, looking up at him intently.

“Jerome Velaska has done enough damage. He did enough in life, but in death, he seems to think he is unstoppable! _No one_ is invincible, even in death, Ed!”

“I really wish I'd never told you my theory!”

”About why he's afraid of me?” Oswald asked.

Ed nodded.

“I should have kept my mouth shut, I knew one day something would happen, and you would decide to take the matter into your own hands. You're not doing this, Oswald!”

“But you may be right about why he's never tried to harm me! Over the years, I've grown sick of hearing of his ghost pretending to be me, playing twisted games. Poor Zara, she's a nice girl, Edward! And he pretended to be me and he slept with her – for all we know, she could be pregnant, but why Jerome would want to do that to her is beyond me. I am disgusted at what he's done to that girl!”

“He's probably done it to others too,” Ed replied, “We've heard all the stories...”

As they stood together in the dimly lit shrine room, Ed was hit by a sudden thought.

”Oh dear...” he said.

“Enlighten me?” Oswald replied as impatience crept into his voice.

Ed took in a slow breath.

“I don't like this at all. But something just occurred to me... Remember three years back, when a black magic coven broke into an abandoned warehouse in the Narrows and tried to summon him? They were cult of Jerome.”

Oswald paused for thought. Then he remembered and shook his head.

“Candles everywhere, weird drawings on the floor – and a virgin sacrifice, thank god the GCPD heard about it in time and put a stop to their depravity!”

“She wasn't a blood sacrifice,” Ed told him, “She was supposed to be having sex with another cult member to try and get pregnant to bring Jerome's soul back to the world of the living. I'm only remembering that part because Jerome said, _Zara_ is pregnant.”

Oswald had been looking thoughtfully toward the shrine. Now he sharply turned back to his husband, his eyes wide.

“Why would he go to all that trouble, Ed? Luring her from the moment she read about the legend, attaching to her like that? Why not choose someone else, someone from the city, one of his weird followers?”

“I don't know,” Ed replied, “Clearly, we are missing something. And it's about time I tried to call Zara – again.”

He took his phone from his pocket.

“What do you mean, _again?_ ” said Oswald as he felt a rising sense of dread, his gut instinct had never been wrong about anything in life and right now, he knew something was very, _very_ wrong somewhere...

Ed was trying her number. He shut off the call, shaking his head.

“I can't get through, can't even leave her a message.”

“She went home to explain to Alex – he doesn't believe in ghosts, maybe she turned off her phone so she had no distractions while she told him everything... I hope!” as Oswald said that he looked about the shrine room, then back to the mural, a loving gesture by his son that had been twisted into something sinister by Jerome... That bad feeling was still there.

“She knows she's in danger, so is Alex. Neither of them are safe as long as they are in that house with him! Why would she turn off her phone under those circumstances?”

“You're right,” Oswald agreed, “Let's hope they're just busy packing and maybe her phone is low on battery and losing signal... but all the same, we should go over there.”  
A flicker of worry came to Ed's eyes as he looked at Oswald, he was still much tougher than he looked, but also too precious to put at risk should the worst happen.

“ _Maybe I should go alone.”_

Oswald looked up at Ed, at once recognising that tension that had cut through his body, making his shoulders stiff and neck tight. He knew that look in his eyes too well...

“I won't break, Edward!” he reminded him, “The war was long ago! I'm more than capable of taking on Velaska now – it's come to this, so we must act upon it. I'm trusting your theory. There will never be a better time to test it out.”

Ed slowly nodded, but a flicker of worry remained in his gaze.

“You haven't been back to that house in thirty years.”

“All the more reason to waste no more time!” Oswald told him, and as he limped towards the broken doorway where out in the street, sunlight hit the cobbles, he turned back to see Ed lingering behind, still worried, still thinking about all that could go wrong. The look on Oswald's face softened as he smiled fondly at his husband, holding out his hand as he spoke again.

“Let's walk back to the car together, Ed,” he told him, “You know I never did like walking alone in the light.”

Ed stepped forward, took Oswald's hand in his, and they left the shrine together, talking as they went, as again Oswald reminded Ed his theory might just be right. But Ed said nothing in reply, fearing the consequences if his theory turned out to be wrong...

At the mansion, as she stood in the dining room, she backed away towards the wall. Jerome strolled into the room, fixing a gaze on her that used to be warm and full of life when it belonged to Alex - but now it was cold, vacant, he wasn't there any more but Jerome was, and she had nowhere left to run... He limped heavily into the room, smiling as that manic look came back to his eyes. As she looked back at him, she was afraid, but anger had taken over. She was looking at Alex, whose soul was trapped, who had been possessed... she could see Jerome in his eyes, and he felt victorious as he made his way across the room, then stopped in the middle surrounded by fine furnishings as he looked about the room.

“What's so different about me compared to Oswald?” he said darkly, “You were willing – _more_ than willing – to fuck me when I used Alex to have sex with you! _Oh, you wanted his cock right in there, you wanted Oswald all over you, his tongue in your mouth, his cock in your pussy... him sucking on your tits!_ ”

He paused to glance at the portrait of Oswald as rage burned in his eyes, then he looked at her sharply.

“What's wrong with me? Alex must have been boring for you to chase an urban legend, to do the summoning here in Gotham in the hope of raising Oswald from the dead! You've met him now. A fat old man, Zara! Look at _me_ , I have a young body, and Alex looks a little bit like Oswald in his youth, too – I don't mind that, I get a pretty face into the bargain! So why not me, why reject me when I did you a favour and put a kid in that barren womb of yours?”

He knew how to push her buttons. He sensed it. Using the infertility was just another way to break or weaken her, and it wasn't going to happen. Just like the accusation that she had sought Oswald as a lover because Alex wasn't enough – _none_ of that was true.

“You're a real prince,” she said bitterly, “A prince of lies!”

“And Alex was honest, was he? Think about that, Zara – he lied to you about his past. What makes my lie more terrible than his?”

“ _Because he's not a psychopath!”_ she yelled.

Jerome walked towards her. She edged along the wall, knowing she was trapped. He stalked slowly closer with a look of satisfaction on his face.

“It's just you and me now. _Get used to it_.”

He lunged for her as she ducked and ran as he laughed and turned around in time to see her grab a chair and run to the mirror. She slammed it against the glass with force as the wood splintered and the glass shattered.

“Nice try,” said Jerome, and he snapped his fingers.

She looked on in horror as glass fragments rose from the floor, thousands of tiny shards all rising and rotating as they formed a column in a tornado of mirrored fragments, catching the light as they spun in a whirl then slammed into the frame once more as the glass shimmered liquid mercury and the mirror became whole again.

“And for my next trick,” said Jerome, and he pointed to the mirror.

She saw a ghostly image of a younger version of Oswald – the version she had fallen for – appear in the glass. It vanished as Jerome giggled.

“I can pull _all_ kinds of tricks, Zara!”

Now she understood why she had seen Oswald in the glass when he had already taken possession of Alex. He had come up behind her, embracing her as the image faded from the mirror... He had fooled her. Pretended to be Alex. He had been in her bed, she had made love with him...

_Her stomach churned at the thought of it._

He went over to the mirror, smirking as he crushed splintered wood under his shoes, then leaned in close to the glass as he looked into it, seeing her over his shoulder.

“I remember the old days, the Legion of Horribles... Oh, what chaos there might have been if Oswald had the balls to join with us - instead of kissing the ass of the GCPD! I like this face, Zara,” he turned his head left and right and glanced at her again, “We used to sit around that grand table over there and make our plans... And I'm not into guys, as you've probably worked out...” he chuckled, “But Oswald was _so_ pretty with his feathers and his suit and his eyeliner – he will _never_ know how close he came to being fucked in the ass by me.. whether he wanted it or not!”

He met his own gaze in the mirror, cackling like a lunatic, then licked the glass slowly, making a stripe of wetness edged by mist mark its centre.

She looked at him in disgust as he turned around to face her.

“You piece of shit! You have no morals, no decency -”

He gave a nonchalant shrug.

“No morals, no sense of right or wrong, I will do as please I will take what I want. There will be chaos, Zara. And it will be SO much freakin' _FUN!_ ”

She stood there looking back at him, knowing if she gave up the fight, she was as lost as Alex would be – there was no reasoning with Jerome, as Oswald had said, he was evil, anarchistic, he lived to take what he wanted and he had no conscience... Her last hope had been to shatter the mirror. But he had simply put it back together, every single last piece...

The car pulled up at a distance from the house. Ed was breaking into a sweat as he got out and paused to check his weapon. Oswald was out of the car too, leaning hard on his cane as he limped closer, looked at the gun and stared at Ed in disbelief.

“A gun, Edward? He's already dead, and a gun is not a part of your theory.”

Desperation shone in his eyes as he holstered the weapon.

“I always carry a piece, just in case, to protect you!”

“A gun won't stop Jerome. It's more than thirty years too late for that!”

“So what am I supposed to do if he hurts you?”

Ed's voice had trembled.

“If he...” he breathed hard, then did it again, “If he kills you, Oswald?”

As Oswald stood there looking up at his husband, there was that look in Ed's eyes again – that same look of fear he had first seen on his face after he had woken up from the explosion as Ed had begged him not to die.

“I happen to believe we have very few options left now,” he told him, “This time, Jerome has proved what he's capable of – you heard what Zara said! And we must try and stop him, he's a monster, he's a predator and he's going to stop at _nothing_ for another shot at life, so he can come back and do it all over again! I will _not_ tolerate that. And I happen to think your theory, as much as we didn't want to think it would be worth the risk – might just work.”

He turned towards the house, limping stiffly in the direction of the porch.

“Why is my theory suddenly so good to go?” Ed demanded as he hurried to catch up with him.

They reached the front door together. Oswald leaned on his cane and turned to him as determination blazed in his eyes like blue fire.

“Because your theory is all we have!” he said sharply, and then he drew a set of keys from his pocket, and for the first time in three decades, slid his old front door key into the lock and turned it, and the door to the mansion opened soundlessly on well oiled hinges. Oswald went in first, and Ed followed.

“ _I will find a way to stop you,”_ Zara vowed, and she sounded determined, angry, and terrified at the same time. Her voice carried down the hallway as Oswald and Ed exchanged a glance, then stayed tight to the wall as they headed for the doorway that led to the dining room as Ed drew his gun.

“ _Get used to it, I'm here to stay!”_

They paused to listen.

“ _I will never accept this, I will fight you every way I can!”_ Zara vowed.

Oswald edged closer to the doorway, as he peered in he saw Alex with his back turned, cornering Zara, who was up against the wall. There was a smashed chair in pieces on the floor by the mirror, and the glass was unharmed.

“What the hell is going on?” Ed whispered.

Oswald raised a hand, indicating silence as they stood there, listening.

In the dining room, Zara caught sight of Oswald as he looked around the doorway. She looked hard into Jerome's eyes.

“ _I'll never get used to it, Jerome – you stole his body! I want Alex back!”_

As she said that and he laughed as he shook his head and said, _No can do,_ she didn't dare look to the doorway again in case Jerome realised they were not alone – as she silently, desperately hoped Oswald had understood all she had just conveyed.

Outside the doorway, Oswald and Ed exchanged a glance. Ed shook his head, bewildered at what he had just heard.

“Why would he take over Alex, I thought his plan was the baby -”

“Twins?” guessed Oswald, “The Velaska brothers have teamed up?”

“Oh no!” Ed muttered as he dragged in air and reached for his gun with a shaking hand.

“I'll go first,” Oswald whispered, and before Ed could stop him, he limped stiffly and quickly into the room.

“ _Hello Jerome.”_

Jerome turned, unsteadily as the pain in his leg throbbed. It wasn't easy, being inside a body that had been smashed up by an accident. But he could deal with the pain, right now his biggest pain was standing there in front of him. Along with Ed Nygma, who had just walked into the room, and he was armed with a gun...

“ _Shit...”_ Jerome whispered under his breath, and as she stood there against the wall Zara felt a spark of hope: _He was afraid of Oswald, she didn't know why, but maybe all wasn't lost, maybe there was still hope..._

For a moment, silence fell.

Oswald stood there leaning on his cane as he glared at Alex, but saw Jerome in his eyes.

“I've worked it out, Jerome – the Velaskas are working together this time! You take her boyfriend's body, get her pregnant and the baby is the means to bring Jeremiah back into this world. You're despicable!”

“And I'm going to shoot you, Jerome!” Ed stated.

“ _No!”_ Zara held up her hand as she dashed past Jerome, blocking Ed's aim as Jerome laughed.

“If I shoot him, it's over!” Ed reminded her as he stepped aside, changing position as he kept the gun pointed at Jerome.

“You'll kill Alex! He's not dead, Jerome overdosed him and stole his body! Please don't kill him, Alex can never get back if you shoot him!” Zara pleaded.

Jerome looked from Ed to Oswald.

“You could still be a part of the plan,Ozzie” he said with a sly smile, “You and me, taking over this city together, think of the chaos! You're trusted, you have connections...We could even bring your son into this! I mean the underworld boss – _not_ the retard.”

Rage blew up in Oswald's eyes as he lunged, slamming against Jerome as both men hit the floor. Ed's aim was switching left and right as they rolled, trading punches.

“ _No one calls Chester a fucking retard!”_

He slammed his fist into Jerome's face.

“ _Stop, you'll kill Alex!”_ Zara yelled.

Ed steadied his aim as his finger slipped to the trigger, Zara grabbed his arm, dragging down his aim as he fired and a bullet slammed into the wall.

“Are you crazy?” Ed said in horror.

“No, I'm trying to stop you killing _Alex,_ you idiot!”

Oswald punched Jerome again, but Jerome rolled, faster that Oswald, ignoring the pain in his busted leg as he pushed him off and jumped up and kicked him in the ribs. Oswald rolled on to his side, facing the fireplace, breathing hard as Jerome turned to Ed.

“ _Go ahead fucker, shoot me! Kill her boyfriend. It wouldn't be the first innocent life you've taken!”_

He stepped closer as Ed's eyes widened in horror, he was grabbed by cold fear now. Jerome was like a demon, able to see into his mind and the darkest corners of his soul as he began to speak again:

“ _Kristen Kringle. You loved her – but you killed her! And I know there was a chip controlling you at the time but Ed, all those lives lost when you blew up Haven? Doesn't that keep you awake at night? The flames. The screams....”_

Ed was trembling as memories he could not erase flashed through his mind. His shaking hand lost its grip as the gun slipped away and dropped to the carpet. Tears were blurring his eyes. He could almost smell the blaze, hear the screams echo in his ears...

Jerome stepped closer, eyes glittering darkly.

“What's the matter, did I break you, Ed? Why don't you pick up that gun and shoot me? You'll kill Alex, who was innocent, like Kristen, like all those people at Haven.. _Do you ever look at your hands and wonder how so much blood can just wash off? Maybe it didn't. Take another look._ ”

Ed looked down at his own hands. They were covered with blood, wet and shiny as it dripped to the floor. He screamed as Oswald grasped the side of the couch and pulled himself up, leaning hard on his cane. Zara looked on in confusion, there was nothing on Ed's hands, but he was screaming as he looked down at them...

“ _Ed!”_ Oswald said sharply, and Ed looked at him tearfully.

” _It's not real!”_

Ed blinked, looked down at his hands again and the blood was gone.

“Get out of my house. And it is my house now,” Jerome said, “Face the fact that you can't stop me!”

A trickle of blood ran down Oswald's brow, a wound from the fight. But there was plenty of fight left in his eyes as he looked hard at Jerome.

”Actually, I happen to think maybe I can,” he stated, limping closer to the mirror.

There was a flicker of fear in Jerome's eyes now, and Zara looked on, desperately hoping something was about to happen to change this situation, because if she was wrong, all hope was extinguished.

“Oswald – stop...” Jerome said, stepping carefully closer to the mirror, as Ed began to come to his senses, and he snatched up the gun from the floor, but held it at his side, silently vowing if his theory was wrong and this killed Oswald, he would still shoot Jerome for it, even if he killed Alex in the process...

“Touch Oswald again and I _will_ shoot you!” he said darkly.

Jerome looked from Ed to Oswald, and as she realised what he was now looking at, Zara realised maybe, there could be a way out of this:

_It was his cane._

_Jerome had looked in terror at his cane as he stood beside the mirror..._

“Oswald... let's do a deal...” Jerome sounded desperate.

“I have a theory,” Oswald stated.

Ed's grip was shaky as he kept the weapon trained on Jerome.

“Sorry, Zara... I'm killing Jerome if he tries anything – sorry about that. Sorry about Alex.”

“I'm offering you a deal – any deal you want!” Jerome said as his voice trembled and he gave a nervous laugh.

Zara stepped a little closer, her gaze switching from Jerome's eye movement and back again : 

_The cane, the mirror._

“Oswald,” she said in a hushed voice, “Your theory... I think it's right.”

“No, there's no theory!” Jerome ranted, “What the fuck is this? You can't stop me!”

“ _Do it, Oswald!”_ Zara yelled.

“ _NO!”_ Jerome screamed.

Oswald glared at him.

“ _I'm the only one who can destroy the mirror – because it's MY fucking mirror!”_

He slammed the cane into the glass, it shattered as Zara and Ed ducked and Jerome threw his head back, screaming as his face paled and cracks began to snake though his eyes, just like a broken mirror. His body sagged, he staggered forward, still defiant as darkness reflected in his broken gaze.

“What ever, you win – this time. Want Alex back? _Come and get him!_ ”

He broke into a run, pushing past Ed and slamming into the wall then regaining his balance as he staggered off, making for the stairs.

Ed had dashed over to Oswald, who was leaning against the couch, cut and bruised from the battle.

“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Ed – go after him!”

Zara had already run out the room, she dashed down the hallway and as she heard him staggering up the stairway, she followed as behind her, Ed ran to catch up.

Zara got to the top of the stairway first.

He was there, at the end of the upper hall, framed by long velvet drapes that billowed as the breeze came in from the open balcony.

“I guess you want him back,” Jerome doubled up, coughing then sucking in a wheeze as he fought to resist the pull of the portal, the mirror was destroyed and death was calling him back...

As she reached the balcony Jerome climbed up to the ledge. Ed caught up to look on in horror as Jerome swayed there, his gaze as broken glass as his hold weakened on the body that was not his own.

Zara stretched out her hand.

“ _No, please.. don't!”_ she begged.

Jerome was breathless as he gave a half smile, the spirit in his eyes glittering like shattered shards of mirror.

“ _Okay. Game over. You get Alex back.”_ he started to smile as a crazed look came to his eyes, _“BUT NOT IN ONE PIECE!”_

He gave a manic laugh and stepped off the edge.

Zara screamed _Alex_ as Jerome fell...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!
> 
> This is the final chapter of this fic, I hope it's enjoyed!  
> Thank you for the reviews and appreciation, I do love to write horror!
> 
> I will be back soon, I have several stories planned soon, including Irish Angel Part 9 and a tie in to my two part fic A Tale of Two Penguins, which will be called The Adventures of Little Penguin. I also have a couple of other fics planned! So there;s lots to come from me soon!
> 
> Here's the final chapter of Urban Legend.  
> Enjoy.  
> Love Davina X

Chapter 9

Ed heard Zara scream as he reached the balcony. He looked at her in alarm, seeing no sign of Jerome, then he looked over the edge and saw Alex far below on the ground, on his side with blood spreading beneath him. Zara gave a sob and pushed past Ed, dashing from the balcony and making a run for the stairs as Ed carried on looking down at Alex.

“ _You bastard, Jerome...”_ he muttered.

Oswald had limped quickly outside. He leaned over Alex and felt for a pulse, then he looked up at Ed.

“He's still alive!” he called up, and Ed turned from the balcony and hurried quickly towards the stairs.

Outside, Zara was on her knees next to Alex, sobbing as she looked on in horror, and as Ed joined them, Oswald was calling an ambulance. He ended the call and looked to Ed.

“Help is on the way, Ed, look after Zara, please.”

Zara was reaching for Alex and he quickly stepped in, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“No, don't touch him, you can't move him, he's hurt,” he reminded her.

She got to her feet and her tearful gaze was still on Alex.

“Please don't die,” she wept.

“He's badly hurt,” Ed reminded her, “But he's still alive, Zara...”

Oswald had limped a few steps away to make a call to Martin. He told him everything, then explained they would be rather late back, because Alex was hurt and Zara was distressed.

“And by the way, Jerome's gone” he added, “Your father's theory was right, Martin. Ed said to me many years ago, that maybe I was the only one who could destroy that mirror. Now it's gone and so has Jerome...” he paused to look back at Alex, bleeding on the ground, “Although I do believe it's come at a price... I always thought it would. Now I wish I had acted sooner.”

Several hours later, they sat in a waiting area at the hospital while Alex underwent surgery. His injuries were life threatening. Zara had been told he might not make it, and if he did, there would be permanent damage. As Oswald sat beside Zara, Ed paced the floor.

“This is _my_ fault! I was the one who held you back, I stopped you destroying that mirror for years because I thought I might lose you! It's killed too many people -”

“ _Ed, stop.”_

He stopped pacing and turned to Oswald, who sat there looking up at him with the same fire in his eyes he had fallen in love with years before when he had been a young criminal with great plans.

“I am the Penguin,” he reminded him, “No one tells me what to do – not even you! I didn't risk it before in case your theory was wrong, I didn't want to wind up dead because I had you and the boys to consider! I'm the one who should have acted sooner, as soon as you said the mirror was mine, I knew there was a chance I could have put a stop to this. But instead I put it off. And I am very sorry I did that.”

As he said that, he looked to Zara, who sat beside him silent and tearful. She turned her head and met his gaze.

“Neither of you are to blame,” she said quietly, “I'm the one who did the summoning. _This is my fault_.”

“You summoned him because Jerome pushed you into it,” Oswald reminded her, “And he's gone now. We just have to hope that Alex survives.”

Ed had been thinking deeply, and what he had thought about troubled him, but he felt it had to be said sooner rather than later – even right now, although it was terrible timing. He took a deep breath.

“ _Zara.”_

She looked up at him.

“I know it doesn't make it any easier, not in the ways that matter – but Oswald and I will cover any medical bills and treatment Alex needs, we just want to help.”

Oswald patted Zara's hand.

“Absolutely.” he agreed.

“And if you are pregnant,” Ed continued, “remember that kid was conceived to house Jeremiah's soul. Just because we beat Jerome, it doesn't mean it's over. You could be carrying the other Valeska. If you are pregnant, you should think about a termination.”

“ _What?”_

Tears filled her eyes as she sat there looking up at Ed as she thought about Alex, barely clinging to life with terrible injuries, Alex, who was the biological father of her baby...

“ _I can't do that!”_

“Sorry,” Ed added as he backed off, “I know this isn't ideal timing -”

“It's _terrible_ timing, Ed!” Oswald said sharply as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Zara, who had started to weep all over again.

“I'm only reminding you of the facts as we know them!” Ed told him.

“She doesn't need _that_ , not today!” Oswald replied, and then Ed said something about finding the coffee machine and walked away as Oswald put his arm around Zara, comforting her as she wept.

Ed and Oswald stayed with Zara through the night. By morning, Alex was through the surgery and critical, but still alive. While Zara sat at his bedside, Oswald and his husband lingered in the corridor a short distance away as they spoke together quietly.

“I know she's upset and this has been hard,” said Ed, “But you look exhausted, Oswald. Let me take you home.”

He nodded.

“Yes, soon, Edward. But not until Zara is ready to leave. She needs rest too, but she will be very reluctant to leave his side, Alex has terrible injuries.”

As he said that, Oswald was thinking about that final, evil act by Jerome before death pulled him back – because he couldn't have a stolen body, he wanted to be sure its rightful owner suffered. And Alex was suffering. He had multiple fractures, internal bleeding and a head injury. After all he had been through, it made Oswald think about his own damaged leg as little to worry about.

“We will do all we can to help them both,” Ed reminded him.

“It still doesn't feel like enough.” Oswald replied.

_In the days that followed, the Nygmas did all they could to help Zara and Alex._

_The days turned to weeks._

_Alex slowly stabilised, but he was in a coma._

_Two months later, he started to wake up._

_His progress was slow._

Zara was by his side every day. The only relief she felt was to know he was definitely no longer Jerome – when he had first looked at her as she said his name, she feared seeing a trace of Jerome in his eyes, but instead all she saw was Alex. As he improved, it was clear his memory was damaged. He knew his name, he knew he loved her and when Zara told him she was his girlfriend, he smiled.

“ _That's good to know,”_ he whispered, _“Because I know for sure I love you.”_

Four months after the fall Alex was recovering, and by now, able to leave hospital. They were still in Gotham and Oswald had said they could go back to the house for now, if she was comfortable doing so. He had reminded her Jerome was gone, the portal was gone – no threat existed at the mansion now, and with Alex needing rest and care it could be the perfect place for him to recover, it was peaceful there, and Oswald and Ed both wanted to keep them close while they did all they could to help out.

Zara and Alex had a struggle ahead of them, and since Alex had been injured, Zara had got to know the Nygmas well – especially Oswald. He had been a source of strength and support through this dark time, and as she looked into his eyes and smiled, thanking him as she said yes, they would stay until Alex was stronger, Oswald had hugged her.

Zara briefly closed her eyes as she held him, thinking about what had brought her here in the first place – the lure of an urban myth about a dead gangland boss, but he was thankfully alive and now she knew the real Oswald, again she felt so relieved to know his death had been faked. Now, he wasn't the mysterious Penguin, the stuff of urban myth from dark times of the past. Now he was simply Oswald, her very dear friend...

_Time moved on._

Six months had passed since Jerome's jump from the balcony had caused such terrible injuries. But Alex was strong and determined to recover, he now walked with a cane, his arm would always be sightly weak because it had been badly broken and had almost as many pins in his arm as he did in his leg to hold it together, but he was well enough to join Zara at the Kean gallery when Oswald invited her along to see some of Chester's work.

Zara smiled as she watched Chester waddle over to Barbara Kean and hug her with a big smile on his face.

“Chester!” she said warmly, “You look so well! And your new paintings are, as always, exquisite.”

Chester smiled broadly and opened up a flipper as he gestured to a woodland scene framed in gold where sunlight shone on trees and bluebells shimmered brightly.

“My favourite season,” he said, “Spring time and all its beauty!”

“How are the kids?” Barbara asked.

”At home today with Brigit,” he said, “And we are all well, how are you, my friend?”

While they spoke beside the painting, Alex and Zara stood nearby, looking on as Oswald and Ed joined them.

“Your work is fabulous as always, son,” Ed said to Chester proudly, “It's a true gift to the city.”

“Your work is always a gift,” Oswald added, thinking of those murals Chester painted secretly, a homage to the Penguin, from his loving son.

Then Oswald turned to Zara and Alex and smiled warmly.

“Its good to see you recovered so well, Alex,” he said.

Alex smiled back at him as he put his arm around Zara, who wore a figure hugging red dress that only emphasised her growing baby bump.

“I feel absolutely fine, it's taken a long time but I'm over the worst of it now.” he replied, “And I accept my memory will never come back. I know I rolled my car on the race track, but I'll never remember doing it. All I knew when I woke up was I love this woman,” love shone in his hazel eyes as his hand slid to her bump, “And now we're having a baby! I'm _so_ excited!”

As he said that, Alex recalled finally coming out of the blurry place he had been trapped in as he slowly woke from the coma.

“As soon as I woke up, Zara said to me, we're having a baby! I can't wait to meet my son for the first time!”

Ed smiled as he stepped closer.

”Becoming a father is the best experience ever,” he began, then started to talk about his memories of raising Martin and Chester with Oswald. Just then, Oswald turned away and looked to Zara as he spoke quietly.

“Could I speak with you for a moment in private, Zara?”

“Sure, what's this about?” she asked.

Oswald led her away from the warmly lit room where Chester's paintings were on display, and out to a corridor where fine china and crystal sculptures sat in glass cases. He leaned on his cane as he paused for thought.

“I am very relieved to see Alex is recovered – as recovered as he ever will be,” he said.

“So am I.”

Zara smiled fondly as she looked at Oswald Cobblepot, once a mural on a wall with an urban myth surrounding it, and now, here was the real Oswald, a friend she would never want to be without, a sweet and kind man, and so understanding, too:

_When it had become clear Alex had permanent memory loss, Zara had made a suggestion to Oswald, and he had liked the idea. The power of the Nygma crime family stretched far and wide, far enough for even his doctors to have told Alex he had sustained those injuries rolling his car – not in a police chase, but on the race track. Alex believed his own lie now, that he was the son of a wealthy family, his parents were dead and he was an only child. His wish had come true – that wish he had made when trapped in the dark while Jerome had stolen his body – now he really had forgotten the past that he so regretted, and he didn't once doubt the story that he was a wealthy man because his bank balance confirmed it. Ed and Oswald's generosity had been endless. And it was a final victory over Jerome, Alex would be just fine, even his own past that had caused him such grief would no longer haunt him._

“And now Alex is as recovered as he ever will be, it's time to think about the future,” Oswald added, “Edward and I have decided to give our family home to Martin – we hope eventually he will settle down and raise a family, for now he lives between his apartment in the city and our current home. And Ed and I have decided to move back into the mansion.”

She felt a flicker of sadness as she gave her reply.

”Well, Jerome's gone now, and it is your family home. And it's probably time me and Alex left the city, you've been more than generous to both of us, Oswald.”

“No,” Oswald said, and he smiled as his blue eyes sparkled, “I am _not_ asking you to leave. Edward and I have decided we would like you both to stay on at the mansion, to make it your permanent home. It would be a perfect place to raise your son...” he lowered his voice as he leaned closer, “We both know that child is a Velaska in soul. I will see Jeremiah in his eyes when he is born. And it really would be better for your son if he had Edward and I around to help raise him.”

Little had worried Zara since Alex had made his recovery – apart from the fact that she was fully aware that her child would carry the soul of a Velaska. But now her fears melted away. Who better to help her and Alex raise him right than Oswald and Ed, who had known the Velaskas before?

“That's a wonderful idea! Thank you, Oswald!”

As she said that she looked fondly at Oswald as he smiled warmly back at her, then he stepped closer and they embraced tightly.

**Three Years Later**

_It was the night of Chester's birthday party._

Martin and Ed had gone over to Chester's place, along with Alex and Zara to find a house filled with celebration, and Chester's many friends. Out there in the darkened city, there were still murals of The Penguin, and people still left him gifts. Sometimes Ed collected up the written requests and brought them home to Oswald, who looked through them, and if help could be given to those who needed it most, he would instruct Martin to see that certain wishes were granted. There was no reason not to feed an urban myth that would now cause no harm. Oswald was determined to make it a force for good to balance out the wrong Jerome Velaska had done.

In the three years that had passed, Oswald had settled back into life at the mansion, feeling contented to be home once more after so many years absence. And sharing daily life with Zara and Alex was a pleasure. Their son was named Alex Junior, or AJ, as everyone called him. He had hazel eyes and fair hair like his father, and he was always smiling. Oswald loved to baby sit AJ while Zara and Alex were out, and tonight was no exception. After AJ was born, Oswald had felt nothing but joy to hold a baby in his arms again, and took pleasure in helping to raise AJ.

_But sometimes, he saw it in his eyes._

_He saw Jeremiah there, deep in his gaze like a small, cold light as the child looked up at him._

But while the others were over at Chester's, he was happy to baby sit for the family – he had come to think of Alex and Zara as his family – and he had already visited Chester earlier that day, so missing a party didn't really matter, not when his leg was aching and he wanted to take life easy and little AJ needed someone to watch over him. Oswald was thinking on these things as he limped stiffly towards the stairs to check on the little one, because _that_ little one would always need to be watched closely...

Upstairs in his room, AJ was in bed in a room where toys sat on the end of his bed and a night light glowed warmly. The light was on the table next to the bed and a little out of his reach, reflecting on the mirror set into the wardrobe door on the other side of the room.

AJ smiled as he watched the mirror swirl.

The man was back with the funny face, and he was smiling a big smile...

“ _Hey bro,”_ he whispered, _“Say it for me... Jerome, Jerome, Jerome, and say again, Jerome, Jerome, Jerome!”_

AJ looked in fascination at the mirror and the magical man inside it with the carved up face who wanted him to say his name.

“Jerome Jerome Jerome...” he said, and Jerome's eyes darkened as he gave an evil smile.

“ _One more time, kid...”_

AJ laughed.

“Jerome Jerome Jer -”

The night light was shifted sharply. The mirror stopped swirling as Jerome vanished. Oswald made a mental note to remove that glass tomorrow as he shifted the night light far from the mirror and far from AJ's reach.

“ _I saw you,”_ he murmured, looking to the mirror and its now clear surface that reflected nothing but the bedroom.

“No more of that!” Oswald said firmly to AJ as he looked down at him, “We mustn't say _that_ word!”

“But he was playing!” AJ protested.

Oswald leaned harder on his cane as he reached in his pocket and drew out a small, plushy penguin.

“Here,” he told him kindly, “I have a new toy for you. He's very cuddly, what shall we name him?”

“I don't know?” said AJ.

“I think we should call him Eddie. That's a _very_ cuddly name!” he replied with a smile as he thought of his husband, soon to return from the party, then he placed the penguin in AJ's hands and watched as the little boy cuddled up to it. AJ looked up at him as in that moment, Oswald saw something he had seen countless times before: _He could see it in his eyes, this kid's soul was a Valeska..._ But that cold light faded as it was replaced by joy as he hugged the soft, furry penguin.

“I love you Uncle Ozzie!” said AJ.

“I love you too, AJ,” Oswald replied softly, “Now go back to sleep, little one.”

AJ yawned and closed his eyes, as he watched him slip into a contented sleep as he hugged the toy penguin. Then Oswald limped towards the door, turned back to check there was nothing lurking in the mirror and then he left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

While AJ slept on, a shadow briefly loomed on the surface of the glass, then, conceding defeat, began to fade away forever. As this happened, AJ slept deeply and with a smile on his face, unaware a lethal bond of evil had just been broken forever as he forgot all about the strange face that had called to him in the mirror, and dreamed instead of penguins playing in the snow:

_There were so many of them._

_And all were happy._

_It was a sweet dream._

_It was just as it should be, now Jerome was gone forever._

End.


End file.
